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Whereas my eyes do see,
What is it that they see?
A building with cross upon the roof.
Appearance does speak; this is what you see.
Why then do I cry
While this well of water from thy soul runs as a river?
Now, able am I to see.
What speaks with words in this mind
Cannot be seen.
Though I look, now I see.
It is when this face is towards heaven
The heart reveals what it is that I see.
I see not a building or a cross.
For this soul sees yesterday and tomorrow.
When seeing, this is what is seen:
The dead come to this place.
The prisoners of life bring their chains of yesterday, dragging them.
Locks of much weight keep these chains well placed.
I look upon the face of those locks,
Seeing not a slot,
For where there is no slot, there is no hope!
Wailing loud they do,
But heard they are not.
For there river runs not where the sun is.
These eyes are as a desert.
I look not at words, with this heart of mine,
If to do so, see I would not.
Only darkness is begotten here.
For the heart can see
The arrow of pain through their soul.
They do not know peace.
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Yes, the heart pours.
For now I see what I see!
Yesterday, the heart was granite.
The bottom of the cross made granite into clay:
The left side removed the cold rock,
The right formed a beautiful vase,
The top brought water from heaven.
As this heart bloomed,
The desert stayed not dry.
Chains rusted away,
Locks fell to the ground.
When I saw what the cross had done,
The doors of this heart opened.
Being lifted in the spirit,
I looked about.
Upon the pews I saw
The blood of yesterday, the tears of today,
Even the hope of tomorrow!
Though I looked up at the altar
This I saw there:
Angels of heaven ministering,
For chains and arrows leave their scars.
It matters not, upon the outside or inside.
For the angels put bandages upon the skin.
They gave water to drink.
Then what is it that this heart sees?
It is not a church and cross.
Though this is what the heart sees:
A hospital and a scalpel.
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