This Holy Place

Below you will find a poem to go with the photo in the header of this blog, but it is not restricted to that beautiful country church. It was written for the place where you have met the Savior, whether that was in a small, country church, a mega-church in the city, a lonely prison cell, or on the moon-washed steps of your home. No matter where it may have been – this poem is about the place where your heart found peace with God.

This Holy Place

These time-yellowed walls
Ringed ’round with angels’ wings
Softly seem to hum
With Comforting winds
Fanning tongues of flame
Atop each suffering head
And wafting prayers of saints
In fragrant clouds to Heaven.

And here –
Like phantom dragons fleeing
Secret fears
Of death
And Hell
And coming sorrows
Are sent screaming
Through light-streamed windows,
Leaving Blood-washed saints
In healing stillness folded
The warmth
From Calvary’s hand-hewn

In this place
Soaring hymns sent wheeling
Sing, “Praise to the High One,”
Whose priceless gifts are bringing
Good hope
And faith
And sanctification,
More Love
Than these walls can hold,
To every crusader
Who leaves these humble doors
Eager to sow
His handfuls of Truth.

© By Jewel Miller


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