Precious Savior, Our Lord Divine

those of Your flock…call you “mine”

For with Love from Your enamored pine

that unceasingly chimes…

we’re fed with assurance as we dine

mid flickering candles of joy-shine

Though absence of a sunny-line

can be ‘weighty’ on survival vine…

pulling at one’s peaceful rind

Gold ribbons of hope …twine

securing cloaks of comfort bine

restraining …grievous tines

And filtered…is heavy waters grime

in atmosphere of avowed climb

found in hours of…reviving time

where those infused with faith-wine…

Find strength to follow…Heaven’s Incline.

NEH 8:10, ROM 15:13, 2Cor 4:7-10

©jmsbell-3/25/24