Lenten Meditation
	In Trinity Church at the head of old Wall Street Ash Wednesday is a busy day. From before dawn until after dark the line goes out to the street -- every shape and size of human being appears, moves like a corpuscle crowded fore and aft through a tiny vein in the lung, arms full of its quotidian gear or else empty, hanging awkwardly like a scolded kid's; nothing, for the moment, to do but shuffle ahead toward a figure in severe black who bears in on hand a tiny pot and on the other a grimed thumb.
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