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To You, Oh Lord, my soul doth fly.

Dreams of You from yesteryear.

When as a child I walked

through the fields

and down by the crick.

Sometimes, I walked in the pines

as I felt the soft needles below my feet.

At these places I would talk

with my dearest Friend

and that, Oh Lord,

You know is You.

Your voice was always clear

Although, it could not

be heard by the human ear,

but by a child's heart.

Deserted by the world, but never by You

Today I laid dreaming of those

years once again.

They seemed so crisp and clear.

Again heart to heart You walked

by Your little's one side

telling me things no human ear

could hear.

Tracey Griffith 1998

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