I am softly drawn into a Love divine,
as one sweetly held in His sacred vine.
A wreath by day, the Bright lights heart’s Shrine.
And come the night, prayers tender souls bind.
The arms of Heaven opened, revered.
Holy, holy, Our Lord comes near.
A hush of revere bows low, sweet with tears.
Our Father, Abba, The Lord; He is here.
Devoured in the cast of His grasp from above,
my soul is swept full, in a rapture of love..
Of Heaven, The Kingdom and all in Your Keep
we bend, we stretch and dissolve in Love’s Deep.
© 2016 Linda Willows; 2015 LWillows