Ice wings feathered across the morning light.

Only one last chance to see the right.

By God’s grace we’ll fly beyond the veil,

And see the mist of morning’s descending quail.

God’s provision, manna to the soul.

And meat within the vision of the bowl.

Let us honor God our Lord true.

His lessons learned on cue.

And let not our rapture dim

The love of God within.

For by His grace we honor Him.

Collide our questions in His view

As His love we renew.

Each new day our hearts ascend

To the Lord; our forever friend.

 

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