Guilty
You just confessed To a murder that you committed You’ve made a mess Your freedom has been forfeited...
You just confessed To a murder that you committed You’ve made a mess Your freedom has been forfeited...
I want to look around and write something To hear the sounds, and write something To see the crowds and writes something To reach the clouds so that I can write something
Ireland~800 AD The rich, melodious voices rose up together in unison. The high vaulted stone walls echoed and rebounded the graceful song. In the church, hundreds of candles lighted the vaulted chamber giving it a holy, almost ethereal beauty. One by one, the hooded monks walked slowly into the chapel, their chant filling the air.
There is yet one man by whom we may inquire of the Lord, Micaiah the son of Imlah; but I hate him, for he never prophesies good concerning me, but always evil.” -King Ahab
To live as though I have no wife; to hate this world and earthly life. Kill the body! Can't kill the soul!
A snare is a trap that stops progress It drains all hope and keeps the captive enslaved
The joy of delighting in God while the Spirit illumines Scripture:
Not only do they practice, but they encourage Death’s malpractice, on the underage
Crimson Ink recently published my series of Calvinistic poems called The Doctrines of GRACE. Each letter in GRACE reflects the same concepts of Calvinism's famed TULIP, though re-ordered (G=U, R=T, A=L, C=I, and E=P). I can safely say that each artist of Crimson Ink holds to the five points of Calvinism, though we charitably disagree
ENDURANCE OF THE SAINTS: We must and will finish the race, upheld by a preserving grace.