Paraclete

A blessed day
to make my way
among the roots and vines

Spring is here
the promise clear
of life without con-fines

From Spirit strong
is bios drawn
the Lord, the giver of life

Apart from death
the Father’s breath
is Paraclete, bane of strife

Like wind He blows where ere He will
His freedom is profound

A drop from Him cures every ill
He’s present all around

So on this day
I hope and pray
that He will bless me well

What He will give
a grace to live
alas, no man can tell