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Feb 18, 1998

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Vision

Clouds, like troubles, sweep away
When the breezes clear the sky.
We can start a pleasant day,
Doing anything we try.
When they sky reverts to blue
And our worries disappear
We can have a vision true
So much better in the clear.
Praise the Lord that we can see
Things that are to come to pass.
We perceive our destiny
On a sea of silver glass.

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