from The Walk

God who raises helpless clay
fix on me thy humble thought
carve my soul as riverbeds
that I may go thy path
God who fashions man to fly
fix on me thine eagle wings
that I may soar and never tire
into immortal things.
Hidden in the veil of sun,
potentate, and three-in-one.
Flowers rise to meet thy gaze,
die ere morning comes.
God who knows the black of man
thunders in the empty tomb
death compelled to servitude
by seed of virgin womb.
Hand unseen that moves through time
purchasing by blood divine
sinner by the Holy Ghost
to make a royal child.
Sows the green undying leaf
within the fleeting of the weed
grace imputing to the man
pledge of eternity.

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