by Al Carden
Dec. 3, 2017
That instrument of touchWhere tells our anxious moods,Where strength and weakness meet,Where grasp our spiritual food,O hand of my delight,To touch your trembling palm,To bless your feverish brow,To offer sacred balm.Lead me, O Breath of God,To open thou my hand,To touch the sick and sore,To point the promised land.I bow beneath your Wing,Its shade I find secure,As long as life shall last,As long as love endures.
28.05 | 19:44
Awesome to see you again with Andre and Mary ann
28.05 | 12:17
It is the greatest human privilege, to be loved and to love. Thanks for these thoughts.
15.05 | 15:19
Yes. Beings not Doings.
15.05 | 15:15
So true. The value of kindness to others is invaluable.
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