Sunday, July 26, 2020
An untitled Christmas poem
Snow fell softly through the night,
Covering with unsullied white
Church spire, rooftops, fences, trees,
Making no sound save when the breeze
Whispered against the windowpanes,
Or tiptoed through small country lanes.
The world seemed hushed, as if God's hand
Had laid itself upon the land.
-- Sheila Stinson
Oh, do we need that today -- for God to lay His healing hand upon our land. May it begin with each of us as we pray for that to happen.
This poem paints such a beautiful picture!