I ne’er could plumb the depths of Love
I ne’er could plumb the depths of Love
Though oft engaged in cloistered prayer
It seemed some nether-fisted glove
Would quash all missives offered there.

Books aligned every wall
Pen and inkstand newly filled
Parchment waiting, pristine, called
But nought invigored sluggard quill.
Casement oped to garden path
Fragrance pouring sweet surround
Merging steamy sassafras
Senses piqued, muse stayed bound.
Mantras from a host of saints
Tiptoed through my idylled mind
Casting seeds like golden grain
Fertile fields, nought a vine.
‘Til one day a child at play
Laughed at flitting butterfly
I let my world of letters lay
Breathed in the air, imbibed the sky.
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their supplies from Him. Just so, the believer is to apply to God for all. Ample provision is made–but it is only in Jesus. Promises are given–but they are to be fulfilled by Jesus. He possesses all fullness, and as such He presents Himself to us as His needy dependent creatures–and says, 