Your love is like a fine wine, Lord:
clear, golden, aged eternal,
freely poured to quench my thirst…
The very finest vintage
grown and picked in your own vineyard,
passion-pressed through your own veins…
Full bodied, rich, refreshing souls
parched and desert dry:
an oasis in a glass, now moist upon my lips…
Pour out a sip, a taste, O Lord,
from your heart into mine,
and I’ll raise and drink a toast
to your sweet peace…
