Augustine Tagaste

Author of Poetry and Prose

Stoicheia

Holy is the wind

Breath that blows

A feeling from Him

Carries all He knows

 

Holy is the rain

The world it bathes

Soothing our pain

Passions it tames

 

Holy is the ground

Where we stand firm

There our bodies bound

Buried all we learned

 

Holy is the flame

Our spirit burns

Lighting our way

Following His word

 

Holy is love

Us will it save

From high above

Our fate His grace

 

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