The Voice Of Thanks

A silent voice that cried and craved for a melody
Now sweetly sings praises in a garden
where flowers blossom and petals thunder.
A weary voice that struggled to sugarcoat its pain
when once it never spoke the words
that over all the sounds of turmoil it never heard,
Now shouts, "Hosanna in the highest! "

And suddenly the pregnant clouds rained
And quenched the voice that drank and supped
And tasted the overflowing of His cup.
Full of His love and grace.
A voice like a Warner woman's shout:
God be glorified, I finally see thy face!
For many years I have been plagued
with heartache, grief and strife.

I have a new voice and a malady so sweet
It knocks me down before His feet.
Oh God on High I give thee thanks
And raise thee high above all ranks!

by Marguerite C. Anderson

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