Praise poem 4.
Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2015 3:48 am
This morning's surprise was...
the first snow of the year;
falling sweet from heaven
with my creator near.
The gift of varied seasons,
each wrought with its own charm;
sprinkled from Your hand,
from Your upraised arm.
You give us only good things,
not like Your adversary;
Your love is there for all,
and is always necessary.
Some call You dead and gone,
they're the ones that know You not;
they are too much with the world,
they're hearts are sold and bought.
They have not yet been called,
inside, their eyes are weeping;
their souls are numb and vacant,
inside, their minds are sleeping.
Let us pray that they awaken,
to know the Father and the Son;
to secure their hearts and souls,
in the race that will be run.
the first snow of the year;
falling sweet from heaven
with my creator near.
The gift of varied seasons,
each wrought with its own charm;
sprinkled from Your hand,
from Your upraised arm.
You give us only good things,
not like Your adversary;
Your love is there for all,
and is always necessary.
Some call You dead and gone,
they're the ones that know You not;
they are too much with the world,
they're hearts are sold and bought.
They have not yet been called,
inside, their eyes are weeping;
their souls are numb and vacant,
inside, their minds are sleeping.
Let us pray that they awaken,
to know the Father and the Son;
to secure their hearts and souls,
in the race that will be run.