To Laud The Hymns Of Praise
There upon the welkin is a hovering cloud.
It is a towering image of a celestial guardian.
Aureate is his halo as he gathers on a hallow mound.
He joins the lovesome choir of voices so stentorian.
There within the mist soon appear rejoiceful angels.
It is an ensemble of cherubs blaring in the infinity.
They hoist the banner amain in epic battles.
As soldiers they charge doughty with impunity.
The mist is cleared the Lord calls his servants each.
Divine with mettle are their hallow spirits and souls.
It is an unyielding loyalty that no soul can breach.
Blessed among the slaves and blessed are their toils.
It is God's grace shinning upon our faith with ease.
In his words bear the fruition of conviction.
There to astound and laud the hymns of praise.
Spiritual bliss is his everlasting salvation.
Comments about this poem (To Laud The Hymns Of Praise by Franc Rodriguez )
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