The Hope Of Glory
Moments seemingly lost
Yet indelibly etched in me
Woven into the fabric of my being
And so He forms in me
The image of Himself
Christ in me
The hope of Glory
Stephen Pursell, 11/98
So many precious secrets
More colors as my days pass
Each season represented
It grows
It changes
He adds to it
He improves it
Such beauty to gaze upon
So great the cost
Written in the tablet of my soul
The last leaf accounted for
Each petal: an experience
I gaze upon the garden of my life
Each stone: a moment
Each stalk: a period
