He does make our fire.
Jesus seemed to steal my soul.
La Ronde.
And while thy willing soul transpires.
And yonder all before us lie, Deserts of vast eternity.
Now let us sport us while we may.
He does make our fire.
Jesus seemed to steal my soul.
La Ronde.
And while thy willing soul transpires.
And yonder all before us lie, Deserts of vast eternity.
Now let us sport us while we may.