I roam the countryside, fully knowing the ugliness of my affliction, fully feeling the brunt of it each moment of each day. Mine is a lonely and tortured existence. What others see on the outside is only the tip of the iceberg compared to the pain and the hurt and the brokenness that lies within. They see the leprosy, but I see the hopelessness. I see the debris from the wreckage of feeling totally worthless. I know the bottomless depths of my self-contempt, and I am helpless to do anything about it. Oh, I’ve tried and tried, but all has failed to offer a solution for my inner and outer turmoil. I cannot cleanse, nor heal, myself, so I roam about, desperately seeking healing, or relief, or the faintest glimmer of hope, wherever I might find it. Hope that somehow, some way, someone—anyone—might help me make some sense of this mess of a life I am trapped inside of. “Have mercy!” is the constant cry of my soul. Please, help! Anyone! O Jesus, Master, Son of David, can you help me! O please, Great Physician, have mercy on me and heal my affliction! For only you can offer the healing and the wholeness I so desperately need. Will you?