The Child, The Bride

My precious child, sore-tested

With hunger, banishment and sword

Cast out of home to loneliness

Outlasting by my word

This fire, hot and fierce

This anvil, hard as stone

This faith I planted in you

Is proving pure and true and firm

 

My bride of beauty fair

I have clothed you with my own

While you waited long, expectant

I’ve prepared for you a home

Behold, I’m coming quickly

Make your preparations sure

None other shall possess you

We shall be one, you shall be pure

 

11/8/2014

Reflecting on Iraq…Christians…

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