The walk and the wake of it,
The talk and the take of it,
This life is mine,
And filled with mines,
Yet Yours it is,
In the breathe and the breath of it,
In the deep and the death of it.
The grace and the grease of it,
The trace and the truth of it.
I lie down in it,
To rise and raise in it,
To prize the praise of it.
In the meek and the milk of it,
In the speak and the spilt of it,
On my knees in it,
To pray and plead in it,
To stay and lead in it.
The thank You and the Your of it,
On the dew and the shore of it.
Oh the gift of it.
Gerald the Writer 
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