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Lost in the mists of time(2)
 
The church seemed lost in modern times, its old stone font awry
Its door was always open wide, yet people wandered by,
No water or electric , just soft past shadows still remain
From wagon wheels hung from the rafters decked with candles that explain
Yet no explanations needed from all those whisperings of prayer
Who had lived in the nearby village, yet came to their worship there,
For when you stand before the Altar , and sun shines through broken coloured glass
His wondrous blessings fall on every soul that drifts so slowly past.

A robin drank from the old stone font, then sang its wondrous song
The church still held on to its truths, that all creatures still belong,
For the robin prays in his own way, his blood red breast aflame
Though no one ever taught him so, yet still he knows Gods name,
So many prayers from long gone days came crowding round the robins glow
Just reaching out with holy words to such a softly sacred show,
And the robin bowed down to them all, with peacefulness and love
Then he flew out through the open door and sang his song above.

And back inside sweet voices hailed the saviour of their dreams
As on the water in the font, sunlight shone its sunset gleams,
My Father’s house has many mansions is an often quoted phrase
But from mansions to dimensions there are many different ways,
So many ways for souls to learn the things that matter most
For in a sermon still remain, The Father, Son and Holy Ghost,
Although the church was worn and old, it never would be dead
It is the body of life’s worship with its saviour still its head…

By WHITBYPOET1

© 2017 WHITBYPOET1 (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Listening to the song Birds (challenge has been closed)


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