HEAVEN III

To make a poem less than my best

Would be, like, robbing God.

This gift He gave me not my own

To you, I can afford.

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The imperfections I cannot blame

On Him.  They are my own!

Too much of self gets in the way,

They are my mistakes alone.

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As a minister, my smiles were scarce,

As if I could not show joy,

My poetry now is so much so

But words are hard to employ.

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The joy that I feel deep inside

That incites these words I pen,

As though He were my very own

A love hard to comprehend!

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Where does this love for Him come from?

I think of Him, tears fall!

Remembering a time I stood far off,

With a sort of fear, that is all!

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So what is it now?  There was a change,

Of course, saved log ago,

But I did not know Him as I do now!

We do not stay small we grow!

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Growth it is!  He is my personal friend!

When dying, He died for me!

Cannot wait to kneel at His feet above

Smile on His face I will see!

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As a pastor, I preached for many years.

These are my sermons now,

To let these thoughts die in my heart

No way!  Cannot allow!

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The love that I feel so hard to express,

Tears of joy you cannot see!

When I think of the true reality there

Yes!  Joy enough there for me!

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Yes, I will meet you I the morning over there.

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Sam Cox 5.31.05

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