Oh Lord above the Great skies
Prayers stand before your face.
With heads bow, and tears in our eyes,
We grieve in solitude with silence.
We cannot leave home to go visiting,
Tearful floods and tempests mourning
Oh death, toiling, where is your sting?
Struggles, among the crowd, hurrying.
And when its work shall be, done
Where will this ruin the world be?
Stretch thin and breach broken
Separation deepen, and we cannot see
The phantom force equally Growing
In, discoveries made, by daily toiling.
Copyright © Gerald Legister | Year Posted 2020
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