Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Sixpence None The Richer

Given sixpence from which to gift

To He that has no need

This life is but a whisper

And lingering shadow at dawn

Those springs of green

That burst through sand dunes

Before the scorching heat of desert

Turn green to brown

In all the vastness of He

Who has hung each and every star

What is my life

It could be no more than sixpence

And when at last

When I have finally

Submitted and ceded myself

To the One who spoke creation Ex Nihilo

When I at last have given my life

To the One who painted the sunset

How could I suggest

That He who bore my guilt

Could be anything but

Sixpence none the richer?

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