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In the shaded meadow yonder beyond the vale
Where flow waves of spring’s
gentlest breeze
God midst his mercies stills
And in the beauty of the moment
heavenly grace there falls
When a wanderer bends to his knees
To kindly tend a spotted fawn
Up till the moment that ultimately finds
Its’ shaky limbs are sure enough
To carry it forth into life
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And onward yet a little farther
Somewhere beyond the garden gate
Grace there again lingers once more
This time to suffer the thorns
for the sake of a tiny child who’s
Gentle hands strain to free a tiny wren
Which thrashes to be free
For somehow it’s agile wings
Have become tangled in the briar
For beholden are the misfortuned
-the meek and gentle
Who dangers ever eye from afar
know they not that they are tended
by the very hand of God
And when sorrow twists and twines
its way about the heart
As if it were vines of the forgotten rose
Those who cry upon sleepless nights
A share more than fair of tears
In the beauty of the moment
God himself is there
To soothe away the heartache
And hush away the tears
Paige Gray 2004
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