I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne. And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own. I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart. I cried, But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart. This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me. He said, My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee. I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,.

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Quand la vie devient dure, quand les choses changent, le vrai amour reste inchangé. Abonne-toi à mon blog! E perds en soupirs la moitié de la nuit.

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