Dear Father, help me with the loveAnd who penned that:
that casteth out my fear;
Teach me to lean on thee, and feel
That thou art very near,
That no temptation is unseen
No childish grief too small,
Since thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.
I tell you I cannot bear it, I shall do something desperate if this life is not changed soon. It gets worse and worse, and I often feel as if I’d gladly sell my soul to Satan for a year of freedom.Which is poetry, and which is prose? Which is by Louisa May Alcott, and which is by nobody, a nobody presuming to be A. M. Barnard? Is one having a character speak, and is the other narrating a character? Is one a male's voice, and might the other be a female's? And what's the difference? And what's the difference - if you and I read this and that in English - or if we can read it in translation in another language?