Something More There’s something moreBeyond that doorThan what meets the eyeTiny HostWe adore the mostOn the altar there abidesAppears as breadChrist, risen from the dead,The ultimate sacrificeWho we abhor with our sinBy his mercy, He lets us inTo gaze upon Him, pure...
What but as bread, This appears to beIs You, Lord, it’s truly TheeIt is You, Lord, I now receiveThis is true, not just because I believe My belief cannot createCan’t sew a seed, give man a mateCan’t fashion out of dustOne who knows You, merciful and just Alone, I am...
A cold coming we had of it,Just the worst time of the yearFor a journey, and such a long journey:The ways deep and the weather sharp,The very dead of winter.'And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,Lying down in the melting snow.There were times we regrettedThe...
When a writer pens poetry he or she uses a linguistic paintbrush to form in the mind of the reader a place full of emotion that no other writing style can express. Human experiences are so deep and so powerful that our language does them no justice. What seems like...