Lynne FincherSpringarden


Angels


They mingle midst the flowers
In the bright and early morn

They mend the heart of lovers
When apart they must be torn

They feed the hungering souls
As they tarry on their way

They lead the lost and wandering
Into the light of day

The softness of their gentle love
Bespeaks of tenderness

In their light we find God’s grace
In this we know we’re blessed

Submitted: Monday, September 23, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 24, 2013

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