A storm, a wind, a mild breeze
Denotes God’s very existence.
Seed ruptures, grow into tall trees
Are nature’s own representatives.
Live and spread aroma like plants
By the rivers merrily, free of wants.
Many of us are blown by the wind
May we be fair or dark or tanned.
Yet we fall back to ground proper
Get broken and sprout as cropper.
Yes we and future seedlings are
Voices to Kingdom call from afar.
Adorn each self as bride of purity
Be an angel to our coming Divinity.
Hallelujah! God in His Highest Glory
Is the main Stream of His True story.
Strength of eagles befall on us, God
To scatter seeds on Your Word, Lord.
|Share The Good News|
Anna Gold
