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poem for pastors

in the dark and peace of my final bed
here falls no light
earth travails
i have heard them in the night
i hold your heart
gone before us
i went up and down the streets
therefore i may not
the snow whispers about me
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
there is no flock, however watched and tended
i cannot always feel his greatness
though i am little as all little things

 



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