Every day, afternoon,
The priests lead a procession
From the alter to the end of the nave
To minister to the saints the Good News;
Their hearts are open to receive Him,
The Source Of Life, eternally.
Judging by the look in their eyes
These courageous ones
Will concede nothing to the Adversary.
They will praise Him until until they expire;
He who is faithful to His Promises;
They will adore Him,
He who gives His Body and Blood;
They will obey Him,
As those who came before.
dignity, hope, bakes.. and no one take interest needy obey and high wants praise (Prize vs praise) nice writ Buxton sir I downloaded this i will give 9/9 ok thank u
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem about faith. Faith is the substance of things hoped for the evidence of things unseen. A well penned poem. thanks for sharing.