A B C
A. B. C.
By: Miracle Man
1/18/2019
Let thoughts gravitate,
Toward beauty untold.
To a place where streets,
Are paved with pure gold.
A place where no sin,
Will exist anymore.
Where ther'll be no need,
For locks on a door.
Ther'll be no opportunity,
For anyone to frown.
Our only head covering,
Will be a golden crown.
There'll be no more pain,
Or one feeling stressed.
If we've asked, believed,
And to Jesus confessed.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2019
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