Love crosses the color line and claims itself.
Love listens to hear the sounds of Angels
and learns to speak in song.
From words that hold hands,
Love spaces itself through the wind and above the sand,
Finding footsteps to fit feet too little,
That walked so far to find home.
A Savior, a Lord, a Master.
Feet no longer left to roam.
God grant me, hear my call,
Mark my footsteps lest I fall.
My Counselor, my Healer, my every saving Grace.
Make my peace my only resting place.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 6:02 PM UTC
Love crosses the color line and claims itself.
Love listens to hear the sounds of Angels
and learns to speak in song.
From words that hold hands,
Love spaces itself through the wind and above the sand,
Finding footsteps to fit feet too little,
That walked so far to find home.
A Savior, a Lord, a Master.
Feet no longer left to roam.
God grant me, hear my call,
Mark my footsteps lest I fall.
My Counselor, my Healer, my every saving Grace.
Make my peace my only resting place.
APR 15, 2019
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