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LORD I LIFT YOUR NAME ON HIGH:
Lord I lift Your name on high , Lord I love to sing Your praises
I'm so glad You're in my life , I'm so glad You came to save us

You came from heaven to earth, to show the way
From the earth to the cross, my debt to paid
From the cross to the grave, From the grave to the sky
Lord I lift Your name on high

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I love the song is God Will Make A Way

God will make a way
Where seems to be no way
He works in ways we cannot see
He will make a way for me
He will be my guide
Hold me closely to his side
With love and strength for each new day
He will make a way
He will make a way

Poetry of William Blake
SPRING
Sound the flute!
Now it's mute!
Birds delight,
Day and night,
Nightingale,
In the dale,
Lark in sky,
Merrily,
Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.

Little boy,
Full of joy;
Little girl,
Sweet and small;
Cock does crow,
So do you;
Merry voice,
Infant noise;
Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.

A Winter Song (From, Lost Song Poems)


There's outside a winter's song
With frore and grayish earth,
We had the summer for so long
For what each day was worth;
I'll long for summer and spring
Each time the night gets cold,
When weather hollowly will sing
In winter so frosty and bold.

A flower so gracefully done
The winter's rose in my window,
I'll greet you gladly on and on
Cherish your pearl white afterglow;
I've often been in a moody down
When darker the short day comes,
Then I see frosty rose jewel crown
And know in the cold it blooms.

Winter romance and candle lights
Longing for green sweet earth,
Longing for clearings sky bright
And all what the day young's worth;
How can it touch the morning flame
The winter that's gray and dark,
Will not each color be there same
Without its golden morning spark.

Peter S. Quinn


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Blue Sky?


Blue sky yesterday
Grey today
Did the blue sky
Go away?

What is blue
And sunny too?
The blue sky
Hiding behind the grey.

Grey today
But with blue sky
Waiting to come out
And play.

The sun is laughing
At my blueness
Blue sky with its greyness
Never meant for sadness.

Blue sky here today
But with a greyness
Covering all the blueness
This is what I want to say.

David Taylor


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Sunday Morning


Down the road someone is practising scales,
The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tails,
Man's heart expands to tinker with his car
For this is Sunday morning, Fate's great bazaar;
Regard these means as ends, concentrate on this Now,

And you may grow to music or drive beyond Hindhead anyhow,
Take corners on two wheels until you go so fast
That you can clutch a fringe or two of the windy past,
That you can abstract this day and make it to the week of time
A small eternity, a sonnet self-contained in rhyme.

But listen, up the road, something gulps, the church spire
Open its eight bells out, skulls' mouths which will not tire
To tell how there is no music or movement which secures
Escape from the weekday time. Which deadens and endures.


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Snow


Snow

Snow is falling all around me,
This means I can't get Carrie out,
Wish I had snow tires to go out in,
England don't like America do,
Wish we could though,
As I've been told its great fun.

Wish the snow would stop falling,
So I could go out & have some fun.
Because without those snow tires,
I kept sliding around,

Which isn't very helpful?
Because the snow might make me slide,
This mean I might end up in trouble,
If I go outside

Claire Page


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