The Psalmist

Unfettered words of truth he hears,
Sounds in color wash around,
Beauty to a simple phrase,
Burdens carried from days past,
Weigh down the tender heart

The brilliant arc ‘cross blue light shines,
Shadow leaves a partial view,
Step out my son and see, step out,
The heavy yoke is not from me,
See it’s not from me.

Creation of joy, memories past come alive
The child’s heart a tune,
Like the necklace link of gold
Little does it by itself, yet dazzles in array
Set upon the neck, it rests.

The Psalmist hears, and he doth write
Words and sounds uttered divine.
Joy flows from the Psalmist mouth
Yet little can he keep,
His burden dare to steal sleep,

His cup near full,
His heavy yoke
Come my son and be the joy,
The truth, the happiness,
The plan is set, the path is clear,
The work is done by me, my son,
Rest now,
It’s done by me.

 

©1990 Dennis McClendon

 

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