Roses Of Red Poem by Brhyte Owoo
Roses Of Red
We sing to the Abba Father
The perfecto of Grace
The giver of Rose
To the uncharted hearts of men
Whose days are numbered yet they knew not
To the Elohim we cry
That our day be beautiful as the Rose
And our paths be Grace like its beauty
For we are but strangers on this land
As our hearts entwine with HIM
With Roses of red
On the Cross of Calvary
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4/26/2024 4:41:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
