Your love, O
Your love!
Like a
soothing balm
From gilded
courts on high;
It flows, and
it calms,
It seeks and
it finds the troubled mind.
It gathers and
it lifts the sorrowing,
the lame, the
weak;
Ever and ever
Your mercy divine
Looks for
those who achingly weep.
-
CATHRYNE ALLEN
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