I am covered low, in love divine,
as one embraced in sacred vine.
A wreath by day, thou lights heart shrine.
And come the night, Star shine, soul’s brine.
The eyes of Heaven open revered…
Holy, holy, Our Lord comes near.
A hush of prayers bow low, sweet with tears.
Father, Our Lord, He is here. He is here.
©2014 Linda Willows