Sleep Higher
No eagle has soared,
the heights I’ve seen,
nor lofted over,
chasms I’ve been.
As my head, my pillow meet,
your saints, your angels greet,
off into my dreams this night,
I will enter into your sight.
Leaping buildings,
birch branches bended,
hearts, wounds, fences,
all these you’ve mended.
From valley floor,
to mountain summit,
your glory reigns,
though stocks plummet.
This night I’ll sleep,
if only a little higher,
ascending with Elijah,
in a chariot of fire.
© 2009 Randolph D. Brown, Jr.
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