poor wayfaring man
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Remembering Rumbula: Preserving the memory of the WWII massacre in Riga
In pris’n I saw him next, condemned to meet a traitor’s doom at morn. The tide of lying tongues I stemmed, and honored him ’mid shame and scorn. My friendship’s utmost zeal to try, he asked if I for him would die. The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill, but my free spirit cried, “I will!”
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BYU communications students premiere 5th installment of 'A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief Project'
Three students of the BYU School of Communications, along with two members of its staff, went to the Dominican Republic to film the fifth installment of their mini-documentary series 'A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief Project.'
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Sharing living water: Improving the hydraulic resources in the Dominican Republic
I spied him where a fountain burst clear from the rock; his strength was gone. The heedless water mocked his thirst; he heard it, saw it hurrying on. I ran and raised the suff’rer up; thrice from the stream he drained my cup, dipped and returned it running o’er; I drank and never thirsted more.
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