F
flower_lady
Guest
Fly me sweet Death o’er this land,
To an ideal world I can understand.
Where murder and torture doth not exist,
And: no burden to heavy to lift.
Raise me up where stars shine bright,
Where there is:no darkness nor: sleepless nights.
Where angels float as drifting clouds,
And choirs of Saints sing psalm’s aloud.
Carry me to the eternal life.;
Lead me where there’ll be: not strife.
Where fountains flow:with sweet rose scents,
And Violinist’s playing; joyful hymns.
Where Jesus sits amid Seraphim’s,
Yes! take me sweet Jesus, take me.
To an ideal world I can understand.
Where murder and torture doth not exist,
And: no burden to heavy to lift.
Raise me up where stars shine bright,
Where there is:no darkness nor: sleepless nights.
Where angels float as drifting clouds,
And choirs of Saints sing psalm’s aloud.
Carry me to the eternal life.;
Lead me where there’ll be: not strife.
Where fountains flow:with sweet rose scents,
And Violinist’s playing; joyful hymns.
Where Jesus sits amid Seraphim’s,
Yes! take me sweet Jesus, take me.
Brenda Massey, copyright 2010