890: THE LAST RAYS

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The last rays of the setting sun, even upon objects simple, make for beauty that shines, even when the sun needs a slumber.

The last rays of the sun,
Warm the rugged peaks of the mountain.
The clouds covering a top in yonder sky,
Roam in gentleness again and again.

I see a strong beam of light,
Glimmering through the mountain surface.
This beam needs no arm to fight;
It penetrates the mountain’s peak and range.

Grace is this flickering light;
The sunbeam upon my rugged surface.
Grace takes great delight
In radiating joy upon my countenance.

Grace is free in daylight or at sunset.
The rays glitter bright regardless of darkness.
Grace pierces the clouds of doom
And grace never to be contained in a room.

Grace finds me attractive always;
Even when I have lost my spiritual shape;
So grace will come and shine His rays
That through windows of eternity I may gape.

Grace emits light in my shadowy moments.
Its sunshine lingers longer in my shadows.
Grace understands my heart’s disappointments.
Grace helps me overcome my weaknesses.

Grace is never too late.
Grace catches me even in the cold of night.
Grace embraces me with love and warmth.
Grace increases my spiritual heights of growth.

Grace brightens my darkened encounters.
Grace helps me with new vision and candor.
Grace whispers, “the dawn is at hand.”
Grace strengthens my feet upon earth’s sands.
~Beryl Nyamwange 

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