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Rated: E · Poetry · Holiday · #919523
The smallest thing may bring the joy of Christmas to a person.
The church bells chimed across the town.
I raised my weary head and frowned.
Christmas day would soon arrive.
I hoped that I would be alive.

Holiday shoppers in the street,
Hardly eye to eye we meet.
They are busy bustling about.
I'm too tired to give a shout.

The cancer eats my soul away.
In this prison house I stay.
Some would say I'm free to roam.
Have they ever been alone?

But then a strong wind through me blows,
As the church bells pealing grows.
The rings pierce right into my heart.
The rocky ground begins to part.

A ray of hope from God descends.
The brutal scars begin to mend.
I see the babe upon the throne.
I know I'll never be alone.

Thank you God for little things,
Like church bells that can somehow sing
Your glory like an angel band,
and represent your loving hand.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/919523-The-Church-Bells-Chimed