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The drowning man doth clutch at straws:
While he breathes through open pores
His thoughts rush back;
To daring God to show his face
And giving back his daily grace
To show he is Man
Fortunes of war pass through his head
And images of comrades dead

Forgive us all our trespasses
As we do not forgive;
Enough to see the straws for us
And all our thoughts rush back

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