I remember back,
when a lad,
I would go,
picking fiddle heads,
with my mom and dad.
My brothers and I,
would jump and play,
pick a few wild flowers,
along our way.
We would walk,
along the stream,
to our quiet place,
below the large hill,
pick those greens,
until our pails were filled.
God leads us,
beside His still waters,
through His green pastures,
under His hills,
teaching us things,
so our spiritual cups,
can completely be filled.

~ Winston Staples

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