He rides the antique wings of birds
whose golden tips have not yet touched
the edge of time.
The ancient songs of earth below
serve to remind…
Ancient of Days,
Creator of all mankind.

His Footsteps in the Garden –
fragrant, airy, hallowed;
His tumble from the Summit
rife with sorrow, yet not hollow..victory.
Time will not forget
His Footsteps on that road
to Calvary..Golgotha.

A blessing of blood He shed
that to Him we’d be wed,
to walk as children of the King
alongside Footsteps pure..pristine,
cast our crowns before His throne,
our sandals shed on Holy Ground,
our own footsteps thus unbound.