The Sweet Succor Of Psalm Serenades

Oh my soul has a voice
in the still soft silent shadows,
in the burnished glow of morning sun flights
with their quiet embraces
for life’s vernal and scenic bouquets.
That is when the whispers of my heart
are laid upon the spirit’s altar
and rise in deepest earnest sounds
through complete awe sired hymns
just laying them at His bountiful throne
of HIs eternal love and grace.

But by intense groans of such enthralling praise
comes the gold of gratitude
during night’s tarnished tinsel
after on a pause upon that path of call.
Standing on the prickly pricks of piercing pang
when within still flows the resonance of rapture
lifted out of the wounds and melancholy wrappings.

It is that pinprick moment that renders bleeding
on the truly grieve soaked shroud of suffering
that we give notes to our inner psalm composure.
Rise out of the catacombs
and sing the joy that visions recall
from the incredible expanse of blessings,
which outshines and burns faith so radiantly inside
amid every era of angst and tears.

Oh my Lord, my savior, my very life and breath,
is the plea I pour forth from His touch in inner jubilee,
how it takes me to winged hymns beyond my peril
slowly entwined in that airy entrancing transcendence
as His gift of mercy through any struggle.

Strumming the harp strings of my hearts
with a melody of dulcet rejoice,
totally filled with such affection and gratitude
for His everlasting watch care