MY GOD

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MY GOD

The God I love does not need praise,
This is but empty rhetoric;
God's happy when we mend our ways,
Of fawning praise He must be sick.

In prayer we should deliver thanks,
For miracles we daily see;
Contrite for all our childish pranks,
Asking forgiveness is the key.

Our treatment of our fellow man,
Will help determine later fate;
So do much good in mortal span,
Tomorrow may be much too late.

Sol the Sage

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