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Comfort His people,
I say comfort them;
Teach them the Gospel,
And do not condemn.
Speak tender of those,
Who did hard labor;
For as their time chose,
To start their slumber.
Their wrongs have been paid,
Received from the Lord;
No longer afraid,
All sins are ignored.
As a voice cries out,
Make way for the Lord;
Put away all doubt,
Be in one accord.
Straighten the highway,
In the wilderness;
Hills bow to obey,
Vales feel tenderness.
Mountains made level,
Rocky land made smooth;
No land to bevel,
Misty rain to soothe.
His glory revealed,
All people will see;
The book is not sealed,
Open with decree.
You are all like grass,
Beauty as a bloom;
Pretty as a lass,
Soon withering doom.
Copyright © 2014 Richard Newton Sherrer
WORD BEAUTY
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