Angelus
In a corner of the sky a last red spot is dying; spreading out of a thousand lairs the night comes creeping; the meadows are stricken with gray, mute fear and in the shadows grass clings to grass .
And hark — a clear chime from afar cleaves the grey calm that lies on field and forest; from the skies a white dove quietly descends and bears a blessing and a mysterious gift. A tender grace is cooing in the air, and lovingly a strange God is breathing up to me .
Ding-dong, ding-dong . . And my thirsty heart drinks the quiet consolation of a God that is not mine .
And hark — a clear chime from afar cleaves the grey calm that lies on field and forest; from the skies a white dove quietly descends and bears a blessing and a mysterious gift. A tender grace is cooing in the air, and lovingly a strange God is breathing up to me .
Ding-dong, ding-dong . . And my thirsty heart drinks the quiet consolation of a God that is not mine .
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