A Gentle Flock
A gentle flock with beauty prized,
so priceless, yet so true
That few can hear them singing proud,
through trials through and through.
The wicked can't come near to them,
His power shields them from their might,
and even when they can't see or hear,
their gift can feel the light.
He deprives them of their senses,
Choirs of angels begin to sing,
In blissful, sweet surrender,
You now proudly wear his ring.
Precious gold wraps around your heart,
Love with conditions, the exchange.
He consumes you with his virtuous light,
your soul, he does rearrange.
The truth becomes apparent,
With this knowledge few can see,
Free will ceases to exist,
His plan is ahead of thee.
Lilyann Monahan's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A Gentle Flock by Lilyann Monahan )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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