Moths of insanity eat up the cloth
From which is spun the garment of the days
The dust of ignorance of countless lives
settles thickly upon the mirror-mind
Alas, that its perfection seems so dim
On their account! Its spotless purity
Seems to be tarnished and its luster dull.
I am, verily, an ocean of faults
That would be lost forever if not for
The boundless, causeless Mercy of God's Grace
Although darkness seems impenetrable
It disappears in but an instant as
A light illuminates a darkened room
Though it had been dark for a thousand years.
So pray Christ's second coming will be soon
But bear in mind he never really left...
"Nearer than hands and feet. Closer than breath."
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