Dear Romancandle,
The Cross, the war, "It is Finished," was the aftermath. Were it a symphony, this would be the final note. Were it a storm, it would be the sun piercing the clouds. Through these words of our Lord, Satan's vultures have been scattered, hell's demon's are jailed, for death has been damned. Ten thousand angels take our Wounded Troubador to the cradle of His Father's Arms. Farewell, manger's Infant, go home, Death Slayer for "It is Finished." Bless you as we rest in the finished …
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