Friday, May 11, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade, To write the love of God above, Would drain the ocean dry. Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though stretched from sky to sky.
2 comments:
Angie, I'm glad to hear that your grandma is doing a little better. I'm sure it'll be good to be home to spend some time with family.
Jen T.
Praise God, that is good news!
Post a Comment