Camp Ground
There is a quiet place where I have raised an Ebenezer.
It is shaded by old oak trees who bear silent witness.
They do not speak of the miracles they've seen there.
But when the breeze blows you can hear a song of praise.
It is shaded by old oak trees who bear silent witness.
They do not speak of the miracles they've seen there.
But when the breeze blows you can hear a song of praise.
posted by Hugh @ 4:00 PM
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