Like the frost on my window,
Beautiful, yet brittle and cold,
Is the woman down the street
And I am afraid
To touch her life with mine,
To breathe the frigid air
she inhabits.
But Jesus calls me
To be His warmth
Where the frost can melt
For He longs to set her free,
That she might breathe of His grace
And live
written in 1995, modified in 2014
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