The Shepherd’s Brow, Fronting Forked Lightning, Owns
The shepherd's brow, fronting forked lightning, owns
The horror and the havoc and the glory
Of it. Angels fall, they are towers, from heaven—a story
Of just, majestical, and giant groans.
But man—we, scaffold of score brittle bones;
Who breathe, from groundlong babyhood to hoary
Age gasp; whose breath is our memento mori—
What bass is our viol for tragic tones?
He! Hand to mouth he lives, and voids with shame;
And, blazoned in however bold the name,
Man Jack the man is, just; his mate a hussy.
And I that die these deaths, that feed this flame,
That … in smooth spoons spy life’s masque mirrored: tame
My tempests there, my fire and fever fussy.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Fire Ferocious
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Selecting to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
To blackened vista now unmanned.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
Destruction be your only goal
For you to vent your jealous wrath
On gentle life with caring soul
And human victims to console:
As you are none, but psychopath.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So there it is – you are but flame:
Reacting gases to adorn –
With orange flicks of flailing arms,
You’re flaunting your demonic charms!
Now leave us for bereaved to mourn.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So many lives to claim.
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fan The Fire
Maurice white, donald whitehead & wade flemons
**ohh its a shame
Its a shame its a shame
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Love is dyin today
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is dyin I say
We gonna fan the fire, come on along
Little children starving in a foreign land,
Talk about it brother
Man afraid to shake his brothers hand
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Woman in trouble callin but nobody cares
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
People denied the rights that are truly
Theirs
(its a shame)
*i believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Flame of love is about to die
Were gonna fan the fire, come on along.
Violence striking down great men of peace
Poverty in the homes and crime in the streets
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Kind-hearted people turnin to hate
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Mans about to destroy the human race
(its a shame)
(*repeat)
(its a shame)
(* * repeat)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(repeat)
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memory Of The Unknown Poet, Robert Boardman Vaughn
But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
T. S. ELIOT
It was his story. It would always be his story.
It followed him; it overtook him finally—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
Probably at the end he was not yet sorry,
Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley.
It was his story. It would always be his story,
Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury,
But signifying, O signifying magnificently
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
I picture the snow as falling without hurry
To cover the cobbles and the toppled ashcans completely.
It was his story. It would always be his story.
Lately he had wandered between St. Mark’s Place and the Bowery,
Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly.
O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
All done now. But I remember the fiery
Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry.
It was his story and would always be his story—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
poem by Donald Justice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Latin One
[ lyrics: wilfred owen/music: j.c. lombardo ]
Bent double like old beggars in sacks
Knockkneed and cursing or coughing like hags
Men marched on sleeping some without boots
Fatigue drunken deaf still to the hoots
Of breaking gas shells
Dropping softly behind
But limped on bloodshod
All went lame all went blind
Gas gas quick boys fumbling helmets in time
Someone still screaming a man in fire or lime
Under a grey cloud dim dark through green light
In all my dreaming before my helpless sight
He plunges at me
Choking guttering drowning
Put in a wagon he had to keep pace
As his eyes melt to his face
If you could hear blood
Gurgling from ruptured lungs
If you could witness
Vile sores on innocent tongues
You would not tell me
Not with such pride and such zest
The lies of history
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori
Some desperate glory
Pro patria mori
As witness disturbs the story
Pro patria mori
Stand firm boys breathe the glory
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire In The Hole
In a word to the wisdom tooth
To tell, or not the truth
So open up and say ahh-men
Rinse cup, then spit again
Forked tongue in double speak
Pretty soon you just might
Spring a leak
Inhale before you begin
Your iron lungs a bag of wind
Theres a fire in the hole
Fire in the hole
Theres a fire in the hole, fire
Sweet n sour, filiblister
Faucet pouring, fresh n bitter
Come on smile and say cheese
On a count of three
Got a mindful of decavities
Chew your words, lest you choke
You better watch your mouth
Wash it out with soap
Tongue tied in a tangled web
Your bile inside better left unsaid
Theres a fire in the hole
Fire in the hole
Theres a fire in the hole, fire
Rudder of ship, which sets the course
Does not the bit, bridle the horse
Great is the forest, set by a small flame
Like a tongue on fire, no one can tame
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bhakti Path (Surrender)
the Lover...
has built a fire.
what will you feed
to the flame?
your possessions,
your titles, your masks,
not needed...
not worthy to be...
your heart, your soul,
your innermost desires,
the very breath you breathe...
stand naked, and surrender...
your self to the flame!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guardian Angels
Guardian angels (12/12/11)
Where are my angels that watch over me?
Where are my angels, where can they be?
We all have guardian angels- this much I know
So where did my angels go?
They watch over me to protect me from harm
And around my neck - is their charm.
My father told me to never fear
For I am always in their care.
Who is my father you ask of me?
He is no other than J.C.
Jesus Christ is his name
We’re his children and we’re all the same.
Sometimes our angels presence we will feel
When we are sick and need to heal.
He smiles down upon us and touches our hand
And lets us know he understands.
Angels protect us throughout our lives
This is their ultimate sacrifice
And when it’s time that we must part
They ease the pains within our hearts
Knowing that when we are at deaths door
We start regretting things that we held in store.
A kind word to a friend who was there till the end.
Taking time out to watch your children grow
And creating a memory that they will know.
Telling your soul mate that you loved every moment
That you shared, and showing how much you really cared.
This is your angel that god had chose
And will lead you through deaths door
So do not fear when this time comes
For you will now see- a different Son.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pro Patria Mori
World War 1 Soldier Tailem Bend by Illawarrian
Pro patria mori
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
For generations
we've sold these goods
to young boys
who burn for glory.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Indeed, how sweet,
Pray tell
Poppy covered warrior.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
How sweet was the Somme?
Such little ground
was gained with
half a generation gone.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
When weapons
far outpace the men
what an empty word
is glory.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doom
Be hush'd, triumphant sounds! ye bring not now
A gush of pride along the glowing brow;
Ye wake no more a dream of future fame,
And added glory to my country's name;
Ye only mind me of her crimson'd hands,
Her sullied faith, her broken treaty-bands.
Oh, better far contrition, sad and mute,
Or tearful prayers her guilty lip would suit,—
Joy not for her—the hearts her sin hath crush'd,
With groans return your shouts—proud sounds, be hush'd.
Lo! yonder where the starry flag streams free,
And swift the light bark cleaves the foaming sea,—
There bursting hearts, in hopeless anguish torn
From all they love, to distant lands are borne,
In wild despairing groans they breathe their woe,
And call on those they ne'er shall view below,
As thoughts that framed their deepest bliss, but now
Send added torture to the burning brow;
While fated still her wonted chain to wear,
And all the weight of lonely bondage bear,
In shrieks, the frantic mother, from the shore,
Beholds them sever to return no more.
And are there none to whose relentless breast
The Afric's plea is not in vain address'd?
Who shame them not to own his kindred claim,
And gift the negro with a brother's name?
Ay, there are some—some hearts that yet can feel,
And dare defend his rights and guard his weal,
Some few, who shrink not from the oppressor's power,
Nor leave him helpless in his gloomy hour.
A fire is lit on Freedom's holiest shrine,
That yet o'er Afric's midnight sky shall shine;
For this shall woman's prayers to heaven ascend,
Her breath shall fan it, and her care attend;
Thus swift from heart to heart the flame shall run,
And triumph crown the work, but now begun.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Fill the Bumper Fair
Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
Wit's electric flame
Ne'er so swiftly passes,
As when through the frame
It shoots from brimming glasses.
Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
Sages can, they say,
Grasp the lightning's pinions,
And bring down its ray
From the starr'd dominions:
So we, Sages, sit,
And, 'mid bumpers brightening,
From the Heaven of Wit
Draw down all its lightning.
Fill the bumper, etc.
Wouldst thou know what first
Made our souls inherit
This ennobling thirst
For wine's celestial spirit?
It chanced, upon that day,
When, as bards inform us,
Prometheus stole away
The living fires that warm us:
Fill the bumper etc.
The careless Youth, when up
To Glory's fount aspiring,
Took nor urn nor cup
To hide the pilfer'd fire in. --
But oh, his joy, when, round
The halls of heaven spying,
Among the stars he found,
The bowl of Bacchus lying!
Fill the bumper, etc.
Some drops were in that bowl,
Remains of last night's pleasure,
With which the Sparks of Soul
Mix'd their burning treasure.
Hence the goblet's shower
Hath such spells to win us;
Hence its mighty power
O'er that flame within us.
Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
poem by Thomas Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bold Jack Donahoe (1)
'Twas of a valiant highwayman and outlaw of disdain
Who'd scorn to live in slavery or wear a convicts chain;
His name it was Jack Donahoe of courage and renown -
He'd scorn to live in slavery or humble to the Crown.
This bold, undaunted highwayman, as you may understand,
Was banished for his natural life from Erin's happy land.
In Dublin city of renoun, where his first breath he drew,
It's there they titled him the brave and bold Jack Donahoe.
He scarce had been a twelvemonth on the Australian shore,
When he took to the highway, as oft he had before,
Brave MacNamara, Underwood, Webber and Warmsley too,
These were the four associates of bold Jack Donahoe.
As Jack and his companions roved out one afternoon,
Not thinking that the pains of death would overcome so soon,
To their surprise five horse police appeared all in their view,
And in quick time they did advance to take Jack Donahoe.
"Come, come, you cowardly rascals, oh, do not run away!
We'll fight them man to man, my boys, their number's only three;
For I'd rather range the bush around, like dingo or kangaroo,
Than work one hour for Government," said bold Jack Donahoe.
'Oh, no,' said cowardly Walmsley, 'to that I won't agree;
I see they're still advancing us - their numbers more than three.
And if we wait we'll be too late, the battle we will rue.'
'Then begone from me, you cowardly dog,' replied Jack Donahoe.
The Sergeant of the horse police, discharged his car-a-bine,
And called aloud to Donahoe, 'Will you fight or resign?'
'Resign, no, no! I never will, until your cowardly crew,
For today I'll fight with all my might,' cried bold Jack Donahoe.
The Sergeant then, in a hurry his party to divide,
Placed one to fire in front of him, and another on each side;
The Sergeant and the Corporal, they both fired too,
Till the fatal ball had pierced the heart of bold Jack Donahoe.
Six rounds he fought those horse police before the fatal ball,
Which pierced his heart with cruel smart, caused Donahoe to fall;
And as he closed his mournful eyes he bade this world adieu,
Saying, 'Good people all, pray for the soul of poor Jack Donahoe.
' There were Freincy, Grant, bold Robin Hood, Brennan and O'hare;
With Donahoe this highwayman none of them could compare.
But now he's gone to Heaven, I hope, with saints and angels too -
May the Lord have mercy on the soul of Brave Jack Donahoe.
poem by Anonymous Oceania
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Give Me Fever
Hey Baby
I think I caught your Bug
Ever since you touched me, Oh
Baby, I’m burning up
I’ve got the sweaty palms
You gave me a hazy sight
The attractions just too strong
Oh, You give me
Butterflies
You Give Me Fever
All through the night
Take my temperature, Oh
You make me flame inside
You Give Me Fever
Oh No Baby, you’re just too much
Help me tame this fire
Cause baby it’s burning up
Hey Baby
You make me lose control
You make me create so much heat
Baby, I could melt the snow
Your kiss makes my body melt
Your voice makes my heart race
I never imagined Hell
Could be such a wonderful place
Hey Baby
You make my heart sing
Give me something Icy, Oh
Boy, I’m sizzling
You’ve caught my attention
Oh, this lava love
I’m crisp to your affection
Baby, You boil my blood
You Give Me Fever
All through the night
Take my temperature, Oh
You make me flame inside, Boy
You Give Me Fever
Oh No Baby, you’re just too much
Help me tame this fire
Cause baby I'm burning up
Take my temperature
I feel I can melt a pot
You make me such a Disaster, Cause
Honey, You’re so Hot
You’ve got that Spicy scent
You make hit the floor
Your jalapeño lips, Oh Baby
I don’t know if I can take much more
You light my world
With you, I don’t need the sun
So Contagious, so hard to bare
Oh, Boy you burn me up
poem by Sugar Bear
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chain Lightning
Sometimes when I'm thinkin that love's not around
My heart begins sinkin, I don't hear a sound
And the world is in blackness, no light shines on me
I suffer no blindness, no one can I see
Then a flash from the heavens, like loud jagged wire
And the silence is broken, and the night is on fire.
(Chorus)
It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel
Who knows where it strikes
Or when it will hit
How long it will last, or when it will quit
In the forest I'm burnin, struck down by the blast
The fever is churnin, and the heat rises fast
And those standing nearest can show their concern
But swear if they touch me, that they too will burn
They fear for their lives, for death will soon dwell
In the warmth of your love is the fire of hell.
(Chorus)
It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel
Who knows where it strikes
Or when it will hit
How long it will last, or when it will quit
And soon the sparks scatter and the wind whips the flame
And love will soon shatter what it cannot tame
And the cycle continues from life into dust
For I am now in you, with the fire of lust
I hear the explosion, and the thunder and rain
The water is falling, and the ashes remain.
(Chorus)
It's like chain lightning, this love that I feel
Who knows where it strikes
Or when it will hit
How long it will last, or when it will quit
The Indians tell us that the phoenix can rise
From teh smoldering ashes that once were my eyes
And watch beautiful colors from black and from grey
Be formed into wings and then take me away
Where evil is darkness and goodness is light
And love is the lightning that cust through the night
And strikes only once in a dark place in time
And forms a fold stairway that all of us climb.
Submitted by C. Cox
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Couplet: A Place To Stay
There was a stingy, hateful man named Old Jack that died uncaring;
Too mean to pass through heaven's gates—he missed hearing angels singing.
Jack was sent to the Devil's Pit that roars with redhot, burning coals;
The smoke's too dark, the heat's too hot—the devil lives there with lost souls.
And after all promised rewards for living each devilish day;
One hot coal was Jack's lifetime prize—Jack was burned and sent on his way.
Jack found an oversized turnip, carved creepy eyes and a weird face;
Into the dried up turnip shell—one hot coal lit it's inside space.
Now Jack wanders the countryside, his coal burns to this very day;
Inside Jack's old Jack-O-Lantern—while he scouts for a place to stay.
Author's Note: A story about a Halloween “Jack-O-Lantern” Legend. Jack is not
real but the Devil and his dark pit are real.
poem by Caryl Ramsdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Glowworm
The mountains lost in clouds, the giant firs
Standing out 'gainst the never-ceasing lightning,
Shaken by thunderpeals, in threefold strength,
As all the valleys echoed through the night.
The mighty heads stormbent, the branches tossed
Into the sheets of water, sky and earth
In lurid light, a never-ceasing flame.
There in the grass, beneath a tiny leaf
A firefly put forth its wondrous ray,
As if no storm, no rain, no hail were nigh,
A peaceful little flame, and yet so strong,
That it outshone the lightning. It would say:
I am the same as lightning! Storm thy life
And threat'ning thunder, but thy flame O minstrel,
Thy heart's own fire, is as strong, as true,
As elementary as Fate's wild raving,
And though it throws its light but on a leaf,
That leaf may be eternal by the light
Thy soul hath shed on it. That steady flame
Burns on, when all the clouds have spent their fire,
And when the bowels of the earth have ceased
To growl in answer. Undisturbed, thy flame
Will live, defying Fate's alarm, a fearless,
Undying mighty word, as strong as lightning
And love's own sheen, thy soul's unwavering beacon.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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0381 Spider on the Web
so here I am, sitting here, as I write to you,
half of me thinking about poetry and everything,
half of me thinking, time to shut down the PC,
you're not married to the thing or are you
when a brown spider, all of a centimeter across
is suddenly there in front of me on the PC's shelf,
stopped sideways as if reflecting (?) as a poet should;
and having gained my attention, and
banished all this mindstuff with the tiniest of miracles,
requires of me, I think, that I respond to it:
it's brown on top, delineated by the neatest line of darker brown
with white below, as if carries its own ghost underslung
in some metaphysical memento mori like
a poem by John Donne; memento mori too
to the mind that automates those slightly crepey hands
that busily misspell this communique from the ground
of life.
and now, that required of me,
it sets off along the edge of the shelf, and
going left, the second back of its four left legs
like some ballerina-explorer,
extended over and down the edge with delicate, sensitive,
confident grace; and having reached and turned the corner,
goes down, then has a change of mind (?) :
that tiny computer, provided by that enterprise called Nature
has had what we might call a thought...
and now its pace has accelerated, as if
some anxiety afflicts it; as if
there's somewhere else now that it should be,
and I am pathetically, uselessly
disturbed, concerned...
for what am I to the world
and world to me,
if I know so so little
about these little things;
so vague
about the great?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fascinatin' Rhythm
Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear
You give me fever
When you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever
In the morning
Fever all through the night
Sun lights up the daytime
Moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name
And you know I'm gonna treat you right
You give me fever
When you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever
In the morning
Fever all through the night
Everybody's got the fever
That is something you all know
Fever isn't such a new thing
Fever started long ago
Romeo loved Juliet
Juliet she felt the same
When he put his arms around her,
He said Julie, baby, you're my flame.
Thou givest fever
When we kisseth
Fever with thy flaming youth
Fever, I'm a fire
Fever, yay, I burn forsooth
Captain Smith and Pocahontas
Had a very mad affair
When her daddy tried to kill him,
She said daddy, no, don't you dare
He gives me fever,
With his kisses, fever when he holds me tight
Fever I'm his Mrs.
Daddy, won' t you treat him right
Now you've listened to my story,
Here's the point that I have made
Chicks were born to give you fever
Be it farenheit or centigrade
They give you fever
When you kiss them
Fever if you live, you learn
Fever, till you sizzle
What a lovely way to burn
What a lovely way to burn
What a lovely way to burn
What a lovely way to burn.
What a lovely way to burn.
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brittle Bones
Though I am an old man
With my bones very brittle,
Though I am a poor old man
Worth very little,
Yet I suck at my long pipe
At peace in the sun,
I do not fret nor much regret
That my work is done.
If I were a young man
With my bones full of marrow,
Oh, if I were a bold young man
Straight as an arrow,
And if I had the same years
To live once again,
I would not change their simple range
Of laughter and pain.
If I were a young man
And young was my Lily,
A smart girl, a bold young man,
Both of us silly.
And though from time before I knew
She'd stab me with pain,
Though well I knew she'd not be true,
I'd love her again.
If I were a young man
With a brisk, healthy body,
Oh, if I were a bold young man
With love of rum toddy,
Though I knew that I was spiting
My old age with pain,
My happy lip would touch and sip
Again and again.
If I were a young man
With my bones full of marrow,
Oh, if I were a bold young man
Straight as an arrow,
I'd store up no virtue
For Heaven's distant plain,
I'd live at ease as I did please
And sin once again.
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When We Dance
If he loved you
Like I love you
I would walk away in shame
I'd move town
I'd change my name
When he watches you
When he counts to buy your soul
On your hand his golden rings
Like he owns a bird that sings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
The priest has said my soul's salvation
Is in the balance of the angels
And underneath the wheels of passion
I keep the faith in my fashion
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
I'm still in love with you
[I'm gonna find a place to live
Give you all I've got to give]
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
If I could break down these walls
And shout my name at heaven's gate
I'd take these hands
And I'd destroy the dark machineries of fate
Cathedrals are broken
Heaven's no longer above
And hellfire's a promise away
I'd still be saying
I'm still in love
He won't love you
Like I love you
He won't care for you this way
He'll mistreat you if you stay
Come and live with me
We'll have children of our own
I would love you more than life
If you'll come and be my wife
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
When we dance, angels will run and hide their wings
I'm gonna love you more than life
If you will only be my wife
I'm gonna love you more than life
If you will only be my wife
I'm gonna love you night and day
I'm gonna try in every way
[I had a dream last night
I dreamt you were by my side
Walking with me baby
My heart was filled with pride
I had a dream last night]
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory, glory to, glory to,
The new born King...
Glory, glory, glory, glory, glory...
Glory to the new born King
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Glory, glory, glory, (oh yeah) glory, glory
Glory to the new born King
Glory (glory) glory, (yeah) glory, glory...
Glory...
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory... Glory...
Hail! the heaven-born Prince of Peace; Hail the son of Righteousness
Light and life to all He brings, risen with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by, born that man, no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born...
[Ad Libs]
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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