Away went Earth’s once White & vestal forms—
Defiled—ravished when Sin’s First Seed was sown;
And now, through Pangs She strains—through wars & storms,
Awaiting Him whose Kin bear Hope, She groans;
Not Her alone, but we the Sons of God,
Whose father’s Seed steeps our marrow & bones;
In Christ, we taste Rest on this war-torn Sod,
We taste but faintly, and with Her we groan;
Although in us we find the Spirit’s hand,
We pray not the Objectives of the Throne,
Nor for the Paths of Love the Father’s planned;
Thus for Harmony Divine, the Spirit groans;
Our Good, we know, is our Father’s delight,
And patiently wait till Faith yields to Sight.
~Romans 8:19-28
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