Like wine with no outlet, it burst forth from this "old wineskin." I could not hold it in (Job 32:19).
The scene stopped me in my tracks, Crimson bursting through darkly gray. "Another cold, dark morning," I mused. As I turned to walk away... "Beware the Ires of March, Watchman! Scoffers attack like mad hornets! I AM stirring their secret hives, Exposing their darkly terror. They will reap what they have sown, When I unleash My holy terror!" "How do I confirm this, Lord?" "Better than a sign to see Are the direct words from Me. So, beware the Ires of March!"
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