Saturday, December 4, 2010

A bed of hot coals
is my soul.

No longer as bright
with passion or zeal

Unless something is broken
deeper still

and must burst forth
into flames of glory.

Now wholly consumed
with love of Savior.

Perfected exchange:
death to life,
surrender for power.

Apart from Father's tending
and Spirit's gentle stoke,

by now,
Praise God,

I'd be nothing
but ash and smoke.



-Veronica Boulden

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Grandma's Autoharp

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