Golden Grove Poem by mark anthony st. rose

He sat in prison stoical;
The dungeon walls became his shrine,
And he smiled where others cried,
And his strength was made more formidable,
Like Samson though at his lowest point.
And in this four walled crucible,
God was doing his moulding work
Day by day, hour by hour,
He saw the invisible hand
That was born both mighty and tender.
For He knew that he was blessedly chosen
embracing a destiny to change the world.
And in 7 perfect days behind the bars,
He was now ready for redemption.




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