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Tempers The Wind
 




God, in His infinite mercy and grace
tempers conditions to suit at the time,
the smallest of atoms or vastness of space,
wind blowing a tempest or dainty wind chime.
To all of creation grants He this peace,
the majestic mountains...a small grain of sand.
Shorn though he be of his warm woolly fleece;
lamb may find shelter for thus God hath planned.

Quote: Laurence Sterne






By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Brain Tease (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Brain Tease (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Brain Tease (challenge has been closed)


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