PRAISE

14 Sep

Breath of Heaven,

whispers down,

soothes,

caresses,

covering,

with sweet oils,

of the anointing.

The face of God,

reflects in the tears

of the worshiper.

Water and oil,

flowing together,

drips to the ground.

Called to earth,

by the sweet fragrance,

of sacrificed praise;

sweet,

fresh,

Rose of Sharon.

His robe whispers,

billows,

whispers,

as His feet gently tread,

on Holy Ground.

The Angels sing,

Holy,

Holy.

The anointing flows,

covers,

soothes,

caresses.

Holy, Holy,

as the voice of God,

reaches the lost,

and bursts forth,

once again,

in Praise.

 

Written 7-17-97

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