More than an august visitor O Lord Thou tower, height-less Hast Thou chosen to be called a guest To a house whose landlord Thou art?
My soul's life-giver, more than a maker In Thee nothing separates both. Recalling Thy past presence in me, I'm left hungry and longing for more
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Which way to Your heart, Lord? Not as if I've come to a cross-road, Just wary of the one I currently tread on.
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The seeds in the Sower’s hand,
With time makes a reaper of him.
Better still the fallowed land,
And the barn may not contain.
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I heard a beautiful song
Of course I could sing along
Before I knew I was drifting off
Lulled in the lyrics’ deep waters.
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Everyone has got their special day to reel in
Pleased to be by the limelight about them
In incredible revel of a new found Gem
Portrayed as such at dawn of the morning.
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How could I this tale tell,
Of a feeling I never had, or never should?
But mon coeur or ma tete, one thinks so:
That I feel all alone and ignored.
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When I heard his silence,
I knew he couldn't make more sense,
Even as he passed the option of self-defense
Amidst the weather so cloudy and tense.
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(Austyn)
I listened hard for a crowd's timely cheers,
Raucous but yet pleasant,
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I never ran to win the race
Have rarely done.
The aim remains to cross the line;
And not to prove a faster pace.
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In the chronicles of recent times,
Of a time called today;
The scribes wrote about the dawn,
Forgetting the terrors of the night before.
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