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Perils | ||
| Who knows where the chips will fall When the woodsman chops the tree? If we do not heed his call, They may strike at you and me. Who knows where a bomb will hit In a nation torn by war? People have to live with it, Longing for the days of yore. Lord, we ask for help to face Any peril in our way. Help us find the safest place On our journey day by day. | ||
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