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Where shall I go from Your Spirit? Where shall I flee from Your presence? Humility of my merit, Not deserving in the essence. If I go to Heaven you are there, As well if my bed is in hell; Travelling in darken despair, Where can I hide so I can dwell? If I take my wings in morning, To dwell in the uttermost part; You will be there without warning, Finding me from my beating heart. Even there Your hand shall lead me, As Your right hand will be holding; Giving me the insight to see, About what will be unfolding. Surely the darkness shall cover, As the light about me be night; You still continue to hover, While being my guiding light. For You formed my inward parts, Knitted me in my mother’s womb; For on a timeline that He charts, Eventually lie in my tomb. I constantly praising my God, Who so wonderfully has made; Such wonderful works that I laud, That my soul knows and obeyed. My substance has not been hidden, When I had been made in secret; Blocking me from the forbidden, Ensuring that I won’t forfeit. For Your eyes has seen my substance, Ordained and written in Your book; About giving your acceptance, Upon the pathway that I took. Copyright © 2020 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
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