Rapture Poem by Elizabeth Shield

Did I not freely race into the dawn
And throw myself into its arms, rejoicing?
Alight with laughter that the night had gone
And all my fears no longer had their voices?

Can you not hear ten thousand angels singing
As each bright beam, at last, rests on my face
And even more, the sounds of church bells ringing
When we behold each day his heavenly grace?

All this and more passes, daily a gift
From he to us, desiring souls to lift