It’s always sad when great art’s lost,
for something in us dies.
A heritage, built at great cost,
given over to the flies.
Art’s not human, this I know,
but it holds a human heart;
a lonely soul, from far below
can unto God impart
a unique kind of dedication
that transcends the dust
from which we rise in desperation,
holding fast to trust.
Wholehearted gift of mortal mind,
it’s how God is repaid in kind.
Art holds a human heart, yes. I suspect that the greatest of art on earth will look like scribbles compared to the glorious art we’ll see in heaven.
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I KEEP IT SHORT & SIMPLE.
Why?
Almost half of American adults read below high school level. God looks at your heart, not your reading skills. Big faith can be built on simple words.
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It’s always sad when great art’s lost,
for something in us dies.
A heritage, built at great cost,
given over to the flies.
Art’s not human, this I know,
but it holds a human heart;
a lonely soul, from far below
can unto God impart
a unique kind of dedication
that transcends the dust
from which we rise in desperation,
holding fast to trust.
Wholehearted gift of mortal mind,
it’s how God is repaid in kind.
Art holds a human heart, yes. I suspect that the greatest of art on earth will look like scribbles compared to the glorious art we’ll see in heaven.