“I need more grief, I plainly need more of it. I am far from that which I ought to have. I can sin much! I cannot repent much. My dryness! My dryness! Woe unto me! Would that I had such grief, or even more! But of myself I cannot obtain it. I am parched, I am parched like a potsherd [pottery fragment]. Woe is me! Thou, O Lord, O Lord, a fountain of tears. Give me a molten heart.”~Lancelot Andrewes, from his devotional, Private Devotions.
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