Poetic-Verses
THE WARS OF GRACE
It was by grace; not just the swear
The worst of ways were roughened-red
Yet, handed it, I, but to God
Who carved the mountains, bottoms, all -
The darts had struck my back like Joe's
And messed me while the archers raced
And, too, I bled and wearily fled
But grace turned out and held a shield
It defended me like its ilk
It drew a sword and chased them off
It cut them off to pieces stuffs
I won that war purely by grace
It was not strength
But 'twas of grace.
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THE WARS OF GRACE
THE WARS OF GRACE
