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Oh, Lady Bloom,
You desire a groom.
As you live in a slum
Where you got an asylum.
You already feel guilty,
Because you're very filthy.
That's why you cry,
"O wretched lady
That I am."
You lament for a Daysman,
You're desired by no man.
All because your beauty is in a mess.
And you feel like you're helpless.
Suddenly, a Prince appears as a dove
Who leaves His royal robe.
He leaves all His glory
To write a new story.
He pays the bride's price,
His life is the penal price.
Your filth, your total filth is washed
In His precious blood as He is bruised.
That is when and where
Great things appear to be near.
Love and Mercy kiss
As they forever will increase.
Goodness and Peace met,
For you, Rock of ages cleft
That both may grow,
As they begin to follow.
His great, great grace
Becomes rain watering your place.
You begin to bud and grow
To shine and glow.
In your new land of holiness,
A palace of righteousness;
Your royal robes must be clean
As you attain a Christ-like stature that can't become lean.
Oh, Lady Bloom,
You must have a bunch of broom
To sweep all tresspasses
As each day passes.
You're now like a fruit tree near a river
That blossoms because your leaves can never wither.
Mind your inward parts,
The truth must saturate your inward parts.
Outward adornment can be deceitful,
But inward decoration is genuine and helpful.
It is not the hangings,
Nor the paintings
That guarantees a lasting beauty,
Let a gentle and quiet spirit build your beauty.
Beauties from within never disappear,
But buds and flowers will appear.
As you blossom from within,
The scent of the man within
Will permeate your flesh,
To renew your outward man afresh.
At any stage,
Whatever might be you age,
You'll radiate the right vigor
No matter your labor.
At 70, the nobles will see it,
Princes will admire it.
Kings will desire it
They will know, King of kings owns it.
Oh Lady Bloom!
Be rooted in your loving husband,
You'll not fear any band,
That comes when cold or hot,
When help others have not.
Make your Lord's law your necklace.
Until you finally win the race.
Let His precept be your bangles,
To impress Him from all angles.
When He comes to take you to His Father's mansions.
May you not be outside the mansions.
May He meet you bearing so sweet, sweet fruits,
Fruits worthy of the place of songs and flutes.
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