25/1/2012

Cherished

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Words are spoken in my heart

I hear them gently call and part

Coherency and pensive thought

Given meaning and import

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Sister, harken to my ways

Of pen, that they may brighten days

Ahead, and give you hope within

Chasing clouds of fear and sin

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I'm speaking wisdom with my pen

Given to me, not my ken

God knows, I know, He's given me

A light ahead that I might see

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The cherished dreams that fall away

Are never lost from light of day

God knows, I know, that thy tears

Are never lost in fading years

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He keeps them in a bottle! Ken!

How He loves the hearts of men.

Each prayer, each tear and every sigh

To every dream He draweth nigh

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Once old, we say with sage advice

Those cherished dreams are now a vice

Grown apart, and wiser we

Cynical with eyes to see

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But God is wiser than the wise

Reality won't blind His eyes

Though discarded, hid away

Forgot to us- to Him is day.

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Clearest are His eyes that see

So deeply into you and me

Searching out each hidden thought

He remembers us distraught

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He remembers all our cries

Secret longings, hidden sighs

Heartbreaks, achings, earnest whim

Denied by us- but not by Him!

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He Who marks the sparrow's fall

And declares to give us all

How can then our dreams thus die

When so earnest is His eye?

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He keeps them in a bottle, Sis

Tears of sorrow and of bliss

Tears that we forget the day

Another thought chase them away

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He won't forget. Tho' thou forget

Tho' I forget- He will not let

Dreams to ashes will not lie

To never wake, He'll tell us why

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And hearing why, we will have joy

For great His earnest love employ

The means to make our every prayer

Meaningful to Him up there

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T'is His delight to make us smile

And our yearnings seem worthwhile

Of every precious thing seemed lost

Our Father's counting up the cost

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And making up to us, fourfold

Awakes the dream from dark and cold

And gives it life, and gives it wing

Until it seem a brand new thing

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So brighter, greater, than we planned

Nor could ever understand

Beyond our knowing, yet raptured voice

Will raise in grateful prayer- rejoice.

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It is of God, to take the dead

And pain and dirt and fear and dread

And make it new, and give it life

Restoring peace, tho' torn by strife

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It is of God, to make it new

That precious thing, and not a few

Words of mine could ever span

The holy joy that is God's plan

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Beyond me, Sister- you also,

The depth of love that God can show

Trust Him fully! He will be

Life and love to you and me.