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I
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This
frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and
fillets it ever
with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and
dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its
limits in joy and gives birth to utterance infallible.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of
mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to
fill.
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