The call
photo credit: pxhere.com His still voice awakens our burden mist Out of its overstayed fast Even our weary feet Seized to tarry any yonder without Its masters sitting in His steadfast court Praising our thirsty effort Forth in a glory call READ HELLO AUGUST His call, Our first sermon harvested from a fertile soil awaiting fetish word Galloping every wasted dream Panting, racing, praying and seeking Endlessly As our days of sobering is dead And a new gate of patience is here The glory of our latter Will surely be greater than the former; The gate of our locked seed will be opened For bountiful ripe Scaling through all uncouth sky Bowing all frustrated honor With royal glamour Setting our light high Yeshua shall set us all right Pouring on us endlessly His ceaseless light For our brighter glory delight Even forsaken for us to be the elect READ: SUNDAY MORN We shall shine