by John Lars Zwerenz
Heaven is of canticles,
It is of a sublime and golden sea
Of victorious love, for you, for me,
For Our Maker of miracles
Who Is and Who will forever be
The King of peace,
The lamb of downy, radiant fleece.
It is of the gilded, mystic, wondrous rain
Which graces cathedrals and spires of joy.
There tears are dead, and naught is of pain.
Perpetual rapture there doth reign
In the hearts of every girl and boy! -
For we are all but children there, snug in His woolly hand.
And the breezes which touch the luminous trees
Increase our solemn ecstasies;
There embraces are chaste, as is every kiss
Endowing our souls with unspeakable bliss -
As crystal silk in that eternal land.
John Lars Zwerenz
Last updated December 13, 2014