Nov 15, 2006 22:33
Daniel broke the king's decree,
Peter stepped from the ship to the sea
there was hope for Job like a cut down tree,
I hope that there's such hope for me
dust be on my mind's conceptions
and anything I thought I knew
each word of my lips' description,
and on all that I compare to You
[the preference of the sun was
to the south side of the farm
I planted to the north in a terra-cotta pot
blind as I'd become, I used to wonder where you are-
these days I can't find where you're not!]
mine's been a yard carefully surgace level tended
foxes burrowed underground
my gardening so highly self-recommended,
what could I have done but let you down?
the sun and the moon,
are my Father's eyes