The Gulf of Lepantob
I stand with the few
In murmurous breaths of truth
Gathering the words of the profit Paul
As we trek through Corinth
Where ancient memories touch the soul
And promises reveal
A light of hope
Shining down
Upon the solemn hill
I touch the thorns
A delicate rose
Where blood begins to spill
And sing the praise of a mighty King
As He wander endless fields
We forge beyond the worldly need
And twine the rope of love
To rest upon the kingdom of light
Through sunlit clouds above
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2018
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