Poor The House
J
James McLain
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Poor The House;
Who did then know,
such narrow paths,
that led us here.
Father, show us faith,
and hope,
it leads us off to where.
That cross,
you suffer, by.
When we peer in
and know our sins,
the foggy windows
plain,
but none can see
them all the more.
We wait for bread,
the butters gone,
one crust will help us
hide,
untill she's gone.
s.t.
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