Your life is a blur,
Hours melding, days rushing past,
But still there is joy,
Prayers ascending, God stooping close,
To speak his own Name,
Cherubim bowing, saints lifting praise,
In the ear of his slave,
Sometimes whispering, still giving cheer,
The voice that you know,
Softly calling, yet tenderly firm.
(c) S.A. Detwiler, July 20, 2012
Advertisement
Like this:
9 bloggers like this post.
