Language of Love
You see, this language of love
has become my spiritual stimulation
A sweet sounding utterance
for my mind, my soul, my heart's edification
A dialect spoken
in the absence of fear and haste
Giving way,
to that throneroom of Grace
In the midnight hour
my Romeo I do seek
Face-to-face
in my own garden
A place called Gethsemane
Where my tears are diamonds
my wailings the weight of pure gold
Where crimson rains shower upon me
a wonderous Glory I behold
An exchange of sweet-nothings
between me and my dearest Lover
A warming embrace
impossible for man to put asunder
This language of love
that I do speak
is the lifeline of my being,
between Love, the Master, and me.