HEARTS AFIRE

The season’s one of dryness
our hearts, arid and parched,
the stubborn regions of our thoughts
stiff to change, as to be starched.

The hot winds of a world astray
blow searing over feeble stems,
grown dry without the waters
that flow faithfully from Him.

Oh touch Your burning heart of love
to the tender we’ve become,
set all our hearts afire
burn tare and nettles every one.

With Your mighty Spirit wind
fan the flames to mount them higher,
then on the cleansed and fertile ground
plant the seed of new desire.

A harvest for Almighty God
a bouquet for The Spouse,
with all our hearts afire
when He calls us to His House.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Feb. 05, 1995