TITLE: Touch By Glorey Wooldridge 07/19/06 |
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Low and hindered, I felt this morn,
With the Word I sat and read.
Dew on grass, opened the flowers,
Awakening from their winter's dead.
My soul was parched and longed for He,
To touch the wounded parts.
Joyful peace welled up in me,
His Spirit softened my heart.
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