Author Richard Rutt Though this frame should die and die, though I die a hundred times, My bleached bones all turn to dust, my very soul exist or not— What can change the undivided heart that glows with faith toward my lord? Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments