In twilight's velvet cloak, where whispers hide, And shadows dance with moonlight’s fleeting kiss, There blooms the elegance of mercy’s tide, A grace that none but Heaven could dismiss.

Such mercy, draped in silken, gilded threads, Descends with artful poise, a rare delight, It heals the heart where silent sorrow treads, And fills the darkest night with gleaming light.

Oh, mercy’s touch, a tender, soft embrace,
A symphony of love in muted tones,
It replaces every flaw with quiet grace,
And turns to pearls our most unworthy stones.

In life's grand masque, where mortals often err, His mercy shines, a star of constant gleam, A beacon in the night, a whispered prayer, The gentle sigh within a fleeting dream.

For in His mercy lies our finest hour,
A regal gift, bestowed with boundless art,
To elevate our souls with subtle power,
And weave His love through every faltering heart.

© AJ Wappelhorst/Bear Klan Media