Charity

Fast not of thyself, but unto God;
do not give ourselves riches and pride.
When another soul is hurt and bled,
upon their head sits the beggars bread.
Lift up high, do not put down.
God loves sinners in this town.
Looking now the lost tribe 
to  be saved?
The lost soul to lead the way.
The fresh breath of air, the leap
of faith, forgiveness now the blood
has paved.  In dire straits a life
now givn'.  In heaven now the 
souls are driven.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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July 25, 2016 at 12:35 AM
Susan enjoyed reading your poem today. ,Thank you for sharing your words. Hope to see you post again.... *SKAT*
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