deepundergroundpoetry.com

He Speaks To Me

How beautiful thou art
My precious love
An angel's face shining
As the morning dove

No pain be in your heart
No tear be on your cheek
Thy somber mission granted
I hold thee, small and meek

The frailest of the flock
The smallest grain of sand
My commands you keep
Till thy victory's at hand

Do not be in fear
Behold me on mine throne
Hear now my calling
And I shall lead thee home
Written by Medinda
Published
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