The Infant

by Bill Kuenzel - Not entered

The Infant

Gently say His name make
no harsh sound,
He is so very small
cannot be found
In turbulent thought
where love is lost.
Softly say His name
do not accost.
Behold His yearning to embrace
both you and I,
yet far too often we do
make Him cry.
In the Virgin Mother's arms
O what a smile,
Happy to have found refuge
for a while.
When at last in Triune Glory
descending from above,
Shall He find just fragments
of His most precious love.
Gently say His name...

Walter Stuck

Reason for writing:

    Gratitude for all the gifts I have received from God.
    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1997-03-13 06:58:57
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:39:20
Poem ID: 46736

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