Lingering Words

“Come unto Me,”
The words linger
The finger no longer points
But beckons
Offering a manger for those who would feed
On the Goodness of God.
“All you who labor,”
The favor of a loving Lord
Proffered, like a dripping gourd
So all that are thirsty
May drink
In one accord.
“And I will give you rest,”
The Living Water on your lips
As sweet as honey, will eclipse
The hunt for money (the haunt of many)
As Fount of Plenty’s
Unparalyzing drenching
Restores to living
The disposed and oppressed.

RoadrunnerCopyright 2008 by Roadrunner, all rights reserved.

Used by permission.

Comments are closed.