The Hour Of God That Now Arrives Poem by Richard (Narad) Eggenberger

The Hour Of God That Now Arrives



The Hour of God that Now Arrives

In the closet of an ill-used mind
I found a treasury of things,
A thousand winters of delight,
The laughter of a thousand springs.

No spider-webs of thought were there
No contraries that could not meet
A melody upon the air
A golden carpet for my feet.

In an alcove of another kind,
A space where silent beauty grew
All sorrow fled as I reclined
On flower carpets white and blue.

In the body's house so fairly built
By the architect who dreams our lives
I saw transformed all sin and guilt
In the hour of God that now arrives.

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