Your will is my luxury;
Your promises, my couch.
When my flesh feels famine,
You bring banquet to my soul.
You caress with tender mercies
And meet my deepest need,
For it is always You.
Written in
by
Your will is my luxury;
Your promises, my couch.
When my flesh feels famine,
You bring banquet to my soul.
You caress with tender mercies
And meet my deepest need,
For it is always You.
Tags
Categories
Wait, does the nav block sit on the footer for this theme? That's bold.
Explore the style variations available. Go to Styles > Browse styles.
Leave a comment