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Behold the kind of love, The Father has given; That flows from up above, Unto us from Heaven. To be children of God, Though the world does not know; Without honor and laud, The reverence to show. We are children of God, Yet it does not appear; Appears but we are flawed, Confessing to revere. We shall see Him as He, Everyone who does trust; Purified shall they be, Perfect as He is just. Copyright © 2024 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
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