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In the quiet stillness of the early morn stand I, spellbound by the sight before me. Pine-clad peaks encompass me, the rosy fingers of Aurora on the brow of the mountains. Nothing disturbs my reverie. All nature murmurs Your name, and my heart leaps up for joy. The birds are a-chirp with song. The stream gurgles with delight. The cool wind enfolds me in her embrace. I am awash in Your glory. It is the wind that reminds me most of You.   You caress my face as you speak of love, Your gentle hand mends this broken reed. I am drawn into Your heart. I am lost in You. I strain to hear the echoes of Your name in the pines.
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 5:06 AM UTC
The Wind
In the quiet stillness of the early morn stand I, spellbound by the sight before me. Pine-clad peaks encompass me, the rosy fingers of Aurora on the brow of the mountains. Nothing disturbs my reverie. All nature murmurs Your name, and my heart leaps up for joy. The birds are a-chirp with song. The stream gurgles with delight. The cool wind enfolds me in her embrace. I am awash in Your glory. It is the wind that reminds me most of You.   You caress my face as you speak of love, Your gentle hand mends this broken reed. I am drawn into Your heart. I am lost in You. I strain to hear the echoes of Your name in the pines.
theophilusqp
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 5:06 AM UTC
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