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His food was to do His Father's will
by Fenny West His food was to do His Father's will His field was the world, you and me His bed was the cross on which He laid His blood was the price He paid for love. Hands pierced with nails He still beckons "Come to Me, all you who are burdened, And I will lift you up to the penthouse. There, you will find joy unspeakable. Copy it rightly www.inspiration4generations.com [email protected] Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |