This river runs swiftly and crimson red:
It floods over Americas wounded and dead.
Its Droplets of dew falls like sipped tea.
The preacher heals many afflicted—even me.
I cannot know His seed till it blooms.
behold its growth are sweet as honeycombs.
How embolden its branches reaching to heaven.
He Soon shall appear enthroned on lofty clouds.
When my eyes shall see His lovely face,
Then my grief will be shut up in grace.
It thrills my soul to know peace overflows.
For His blood dripped like sap on trees.
O the beauty of His love expressed eternally.
It keeps the birds singing and bells ringing.
Let shout praise in our hearts victoriously!
The King has triumphed and He alone is Holy!
Darrel Venable
2021
Divinity Poetry 