A big song...
Beaten to chase wrong.
And lively feet,
Thus sprint when the seconds split;
The glory fall.
When the sound of melody call
Sorrow does not mind '
Neither is the sun blind;
Silent came the words
For the wounded spirit needs his Lord,
Told the sabbath song.
Scripted in red bears out strong!
And told of ones precious blood! !
Shared to shelter the sins of his flood;
Surely has there never been...
Or shall be to wash our crimson sins,
And filthy as we may seem.
Stood not worthy to be called of him,
The precious lamp of God! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem