One less than a score of years, I've roamed this world of woe. Off the straight and narrow course, I have been prone to go. I once did think it worthy To please myself with fun, But this I found was shallow, When all was said and done. Then I thought it would be wise Instead to covet clout, But never did it bring me joy: My soul so long in drought. Now I wish for but one thing, No longer shall I roam. Now I wish to rest in God: In Peace to place my Home.
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