On path behind our stride the forest fires
Burning memories made of human hands Screaming souls in front construct the pyres To sacrifice the life of our demands Angelic choirs quickened to your voice ‘Oh Jesus, move the mountains in my heart’ And I was not divided in my choice To bring my strength to bear and play my part As Mother is the river raising me Your freedom in the Lord is my delight I only wish I better helped you see Yourself, as into me you cast your light Charity, purity, and lowliness These gifts you grew in me through our friendship
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December 2019
AuthorCole Anson Augustine Viscichini Categories |