Saturday, December 26, 2009
Somewhere in the muted folds
Before the breath of pinks and golds
Breaks the sacred solemn hush
Endowed by midnights velvet brush
Somewhere among the charcoal plumes
And all the grey and silver blooms
Which boast their colors but by day
And hide by night in shades of grey
Ah, somewhere there beneath the pines
Sheltered by the whispering vines
And serenaded from the sky
By winsome breezes lullaby....
Somewhere among forgotten hills
Where a wisp of moon-light spills
A silver pool upon the grass
As the untallied minutes pass
Ah, somewhere there I wish to be
With God, in wordless poetry.
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Who may ascend the hill of the Lord?
Or who may stand in His holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
who does not lift up his soul to an idol
or swear by what is false.
He will receive blessing from the Lord. Ps. 24:3-5