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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2010 7:22:57 GMT -6
THRESHOLD OF HEAVENby Martha Snell Nicholson Author of Wings and Sky, In Heaven's Gardens, Ivory Palaces, and The Glory ForeverCopyright @ 1943 by Moody Press Chicago edited for Divine Intervention by Baptist Bible Believer in the spirit of the Colportage ministry of a century ago divintfor.proboards.com/index.cgi~ out-of-print and in the public domain ~
No Evidence of a Current Copyright for the Printed Book Found
During online Internet searches of the Library of Congress database in Washington D.C., performed on 5-25-2007, no evidence of a current copyright renewal within 28 years of copyright prior to 1964 was found for this publication.
Please tell everyone you know about this website, pray for this ministry - and that will be payment enough!“ Buy the truth, and sell it not; also wisdom, and instruction, and understanding [/b]” (Proverbs 23:23) TABLE OF CONTENTSTHRESHOLD OF HEAVEN NEVER BEFORE PROSPERITY THE FACE OF CHRIST “WITH WHOM IS NO SHADOW OF TURNING” CHRISTMAS MEDITATION CARPENTER SHOP THE INDWELLING CHRIST UNTIL HE COMES THE FORGETFULNESS OF GOD COVERING MANTLE DAFFODILS IN MARCH THE RED SEA THE WOMEN AT THE TOMB HIS FOOTFALL DRAWETH NEAR AND SO SHALL WE EVER BE WITH THE LORD JESUS, MY LORD YOUR LIGHT AFFLICTION GOOD WORKS BLOOD AND TEARS THERE, BUT FOR THEE GOD'S GIFT OUR GIFTS IN A GARDEN TODAY BESIDE A NEW-MADE GRAVE ANSWERED THE DREAMER MARY MAGDALENE I WOULD NOT BE AN ANGEL DUST NOT TAPS BUT REVEILLE IN HEAVEN TO ME TO LIVE IS CHRIST ONLY IN THEE TRUST HOW LONG, LORD JESUS, HOW LONG? THERE IS SOMETHING IN HEAVEN THAT MAN PUT THERE PRODIGAL HIS NAME SHALL BE CALLED WONDERFUL THE GIFT EASTER MORNING ACCEPTED IN THE BELOVED IS THERE A STIRRING IN HEAVEN? THOSE WHO ARE LEFT BEHIND WAITING FOR JESUS WAITING HE ANSWERED FROM MY HEART THE VOICE OF ONE WHO WEPT TO MY FRIENDS ON CHRISTMAS DAY THE FACE OF DEATH “HE EVER LIVETH TO MAKE INTERCESSION FOR US” GO YE TO ALL THE WORLD AND SO I LOVE THIS EASTER DAY THE “MORE SURE WORD” BLESSED HOPE APART FROM GOD WE LOVE YOU, SUFFERING ISRAEL ON READING AN ADVERTISEMENT OF A TRIP TO THE HOLY LAND LO, I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS THANKSGIVING MEDITATION THESE DIE NOT MY BODYGUARD THE KING COMES BEAUTY DYING THE ELEVENTH HOUR I SHALL BE LIKE HIM TO BLEEDING ISRAEL NOT FOR MY FLESH SPRING BLIND A LETTER A BACK YARD MIRACLE ON GROWING OLD BEAUTY WALKS AT NIGHT FORETASTE I TIMOTHY 6:17 THE HEAVENS DECLARE THE GLORY OF GOD TRAITOR MAY BASKETS CHILD EVANGELISM CYCLE LULLABY LITTLE BOY GREETINGS EVENING REVERIES REMEMBERING TO MY MOTHER BEREAVEMENT SKY JOURNEY TO MOTHER IN HEAVEN HE BEING GONE IS IT SUCH A LITTLE THING? THE BEAUTIFUL WORD GIFTS IN OUR STREET REVELATION AFTER A LONG ILLNESS HIS FALLEN SPARROWS EAVESDROPPING WINDS BATTLE ETHER TOGETHER DYING GRACE THE RAPTURE THE BRIGHTENING PATH OF PAIN RECOMPENSE HALF ASLEEP THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY THANKSGIVING WHEN HE SHALL CALL ME OPEN SESAME THE ROOM UNTENANTED HOMING TAUGHT OF GOD BEAUTY FOR ASHES TWENTY YEARS OF PAIN . . . AND THANKFULNESS[/b] The Gifts of Laughter and Vision The Lessons That the Sleepless Learn The Challenge of Leisure Hours Rest in the Will of God The Hope of TomorrowNOW AND THEN THE REDEEMED SHALL WALK THERE GOD'S MESSAGE[/center]
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2010 7:23:42 GMT -6
My first book, Wings and Sky, was so warmly received that I am sending forth this second book with the hope that it, too, may find a place in your hearts.
It is dedicated to my beloved parents, who long since crossed heaven's golden threshold.
Grateful acknowledgment for permission to reprint is made to Sunday School Times, Moody Monthly, Brethren Missionary Herald, Kings Business, Christian Victory, Jewish Missionary Magazine, Conqueror, Biblical Research Monthly, The Prayer Room, Prophecy Magazine, and others. Also to various anthologies of American and British verse.
Dear Lord, illumine with Thy face Each sick-room; make it, by Thy grace, An altar and a holy place.
FOREWORD
Threshold of Heaven! What a fitting title for a compilation of poems from the heart and pen of Martha Snell Nicholson, for the verses which pour forth from the soul of this poet always take her readers to the very threshold of heaven.
We often hear it said in these days that this is a mechanical age and that in such an age people have little time or care for poetry. We doubt the truthfulness of such a statement. Even in the mechanical age, men and women still have hearts; and wherever there is a human heart that heart can grow weary, throb with pain, and break under the burden of sorrow. And wherever there are such hearts, the song that breathes forth real sympathy, soothes and helps to heal. It is not that “people do not care for poetry,” but that so seldom we find a writer who has kept his soul free from the leaden instincts of a mechanical world—a writer who understands how to arouse the deeper emotions of the heart and guide the weary pilgrims of earth to the threshold of heaven. The wide demand for, and publication of, Mrs. Nicholson's poems proves her to be just such a writer. Herself knowing the meaning of suffering and what it means to sit patiently at the threshold of heaven, even in a body racked with pain, waiting for the gates of glory to open into the world where sorrow, pain and tears shall be known no more — verily, such an one knows how to breathe forth the words that will soothe and comfort.
Epistles to Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, Philemon— were ever sweeter words, full of hope and glory, written with a pen? But, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians and Philemon were prison letters—all! Not only were they letters written within the dark dungeon of a Roman prison, but they were written in fleshly weakness and suffering! God had His reason for not answering the cry of Paul to remove the thorn that was so bitter to bis flesh.
I have known Martha Snell Nicholson and her husband as close personal friends through long years of her continual wrestle with the weakness of the flesh, and I do not hesitate to say that the heavenly Father has had His reasons for leaving the thorn in the flesh of this beloved writer of poems. And this little book that will carry many, many other sufferers to the very threshold of heaven as they read, is not the least of those reasons. It may be that it is the only reason.
God bless this little volume as it goes forth with its messages of cheer to comfort the pilgrims who journey on through an unfriendly world with its manifold trials and temptations — on to the City whose Builder and Maker is God. In that City there will be no need for these “songs in the night,” for there will be no night there.
Louis S. Bauman, D.D. Long Beach, Calif.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2010 7:25:03 GMT -6
“ But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him” (I Corinthians 2:9) THRESHOLD OF HEAVEN
Do not ask me not to speak About this journey I shall take. ‘Tis but a step and then my eyes Shall open to the great surprise He has prepared. Do you recall? At Christmastime when we were small, Our rapture and our eagerness, And how we always tried to guess What gifts our mother's hands had made? Dear memories that will not fade! Don't you remember, half our fun Was in anticipation! And then at last the open door. A breathless pause, a rush, and there Beneath the tree our gifts were laid, The gifts our mother's hands had made!
So at His threshold now I pause, And ask you not to grieve because I go into His other room. Surely He would have me come With eager wonder in my eyes To see at last what rich surprise The loving hands of our dear Lord Made for His own. Ear has not heard, Eye has not seen, nor can the mind Obscurely guess what we shall find Beyond that opened door. And so, I pray that you will let me go, Will loose love's last restraining bands. A hush ... a light... and lo, His hands Have unveiled glory in a breath! O gifts undreamed of—brought by death!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2010 3:55:55 GMT -6
“ And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places. All these are the beginning of sorrows” (Matthew 24:6-8). NEVER BEFORE
Never before such a sad world as this, Never before. Tumult and bloodshed, confusion and fear, Nations at war. Kingdoms are tottering, famine draws near, And pestilence sore.
Daily the blessed hope brightens—more dear, Hourly more dear! Never before was His coming so near, Never so near; Never a time when the signs were more clear, Never more clear.
Earth's long night is ending — O glorious dawn of ineffable day! Scarce can our waiting hearts bear His delay . . . “No longer delay, Come quickly, Lord Jesus, come quickly!” we pray, Sobbing, we pray.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2010 3:29:27 GMT -6
“ Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy” (I Timothy 6:17) PROSPERITY
O friend of mine, I see you now At ease, well clad and fed; No further need to struggle nor To starve—those days are fled. And yet I look at you and grieve: I know your faith is dead!
I wish that I could find once more The friend I used to know, With shabby clothes, but crowned with stars! About you used to glow The sanctity of suffering. Dear friend, where did you go?
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2010 3:42:55 GMT -6
“ As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee” (Isaiah 62:5). THE FACE OF CHRIST
My beauty-loving eyes grow tired Of walls, and through long days and nights I often dream how it would seem Could I behold earth's fairest sights.
My pale hands never held a star, I never climbed a mountain height, Nor sailed in tropic seas, nor saw Aurora Borealis light
The northern sky, I never glimpsed The beauty of the Taj Mahal, Nor watched a fading sunset paint The Alps with afterglow. Yet all
The loveliness of earth, if given me, Would not suffice. Some day these eyes will see The face of Christ as He beholds His Bride, And seeing, be forever satisfied!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2010 3:56:06 GMT -6
“ Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning” (James 1:17). “WITH WHOM IS NO SHADOW OF TURNING”
Above earth's bloody battlefields The sun still shines at noon, At eventide the starlight gleams; Night after night the moon
Still climbs the peaceful, silent sky. The white tides rise and fall, Their pulse unchanged. Above the dead The waving grass grows tall.
And still the skylark sings of God, And still comes on the spring, Pregnant with life, and busy with Her lovely burgeoning.
As sure as time and tide, shall come The day when wars shall cease. God's clock ticks on, God's plans change not. Come, blessed Prince of Peace!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 26, 2010 13:36:07 GMT -6
CHRISTMAS MEDITATION Who was this who was born on that far-off Christmas Day? What manner of child was this whose first bed was a rude, dusty manger? Did anyone know? Yes, Mary knew. Scarcely more than a child though she was, her soul was exalted beyond our imagining as she listened to the announcement of the angel, “ That holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God!” The suffering heart of Joseph came in time to know. The Wise Men knew, drawn from the far corners of the earth as by a magnet. The angels knew, and all the wide golden streets of heaven were crowded with them, their faces shining with joy, and their chorus of rejoicing rising again and again, “ Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” Even the sentient stars knew and one of their number was appointed to hang in luminous beauty over the spot where the young Child lay. But the world, the one most concerned — the world, then as now before His second coming, went blindly on its way. But, thank God, you and I not only know, but incredible wonder, we have a personal relationship with that Perfect One who left His ivory palaces and the glory which He had with God before the earth was, and walked here awhile in humiliation. We know that God Himself spoke from heaven, saying, “ This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased!” Son of God, King of kings and Lord of lords! Creator of the universe, for without Him was nothing made that was made. Our great High Priest, ever living to make intercession for us. Sin-bearer, and yet future Judge, for all judgment is committed unto the Son. The Captain of our salvation, the Author and Finisher of our faith, the bright and morning Star, the Resurrection and the Life! Mary called Him by the little human name of Jesus, but His name was also “ Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” No room for Him at the inn! Could any inn contain the Lord of glory? The wonder is that the walls of that small stable did not part and stretch far, far away to the ends of the universe in a vain effort to make a dwelling place vast enough to house Infinity! Yet this same sinless, incomparable One suffered indescribable tortures for love of you and me! For long dreadful hours He hung upon the cross, bearing the guilt and shame of my sins and the sins of all the world. He conquered death and hell for me. He walks the earth with me. He has given heaven to me! It is too much. I cannot grasp such amazing depths of love. I can only remove the shoes from off my feet and Bow in silent adoration at the door of that little stable in Bethlehem!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2010 3:56:47 GMT -6
CARPENTER SHOP
A quiet village street, a humble shop Beneath the leafy shade. I often think about the many things The hands of Jesus made.
Perhaps a yoke for oxen, He who said “This yoke of Mine is light.” All through the blessed years we found it so, Walking by faith, not sight.
Sometimes He framed the lintel of a door. “I am the Way, the Door, And everyone who cometh unto Me Is safe evermore.”
It seems so strange to think He made a chair Or simple wooden bed For humble village folk to lie upon, The same dear Lord who said,
“Come unto Me, all worn and weary hearts, And I will give you rest.” Sweet, sweet the rest the saints of God have found, Pillowed upon His breast!
But oh, I know He never made a cross! That cross, so stark and grim Against the pitying skies—your sins and mine Fashioned that cross for Him!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 28, 2010 11:50:07 GMT -6
“ To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; which is Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). THE INDWELLING CHRIST
It was an ancient copper plate which stirred me so, Made in Jerusalem two thousand years ago. I trembled strangely as I held it in my hands, And thought of how my Lord lived in those far-off lands; And then I wondered, breathless, if perhaps He ate When at the home of friends, from off this self-same plate! And at the very thought my hands drew back, for such My hushed and holy awe, it seemed my lightest touch Profaned . . . And yet there is a mystery so deep That often in the night hours, when I ponder sleep Forsakes my eyelids, time is lost and space is gone.
My spirit and my flesh, mysterious two-in-one, Forever bound together! This my flesh has been At sundry times, in sundry ways, at once my bane And my delight, my cross, my joy. And yet, the door Is locked and bolted, and the soul grows lonely, for The body is a prison where the spirit lives Alone through all of life, and only death's hand gives Release to it at last and sets that spirit free. Yet to the child of God — ah, here the mystery! — Comes One who knocks and enters. Nevermore alone, The spirit has a sweet Companion now!
O blessed One, Though pain has twisted me, and care has lined my brow, This flesh of mine is Thy most holy temple now, And when I touch my hand I touch Thy dwelling place! May I so live that those who look upon my face May find Thy radiance shining there, that they may see Not my poor flesh, but Thee, my Lord, but only Thee!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2010 9:39:05 GMT -6
“ Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled” (Matthew 5:6). UNTIL HE COMES
Keep Thou me ever hungry, Lord, Until I famish for Thy Word — Thy Word, which is my meat, my bread, Thy Word, which feeds whenever read.
Keep Thou me ever thirsty, Lord, Stay not Thy hand till Thou hast poured Thy living water in my cup Which I am humbly holding up.
Keep me dissatisfied, dear Lord; Use Thou Thy Spirit's shining sword To pierce my foolish self-esteem And rouse me from my empty dream.
Keep me awake, that I may hear Thy bugles calling, loud and clear. Stir Thou my sluggish soul to fight For Thee beneath Thy banner bright.
Yea, this my prayer, that I may be Hungry and thirsty, Lord, for Thee, Dissatisfied with self, awake! And this I ask for Jesus' sake.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2010 2:30:35 GMT -6
“ For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us” (Psalms 103:11-12). THE FORGETFULNESS OF GOD
How many, many things He will forget! My every sin, both great and small, and yet
He will remember and He will reward The smallest service done for our dear Lord!
Divine forgetfulness, unfathomed grace, And love which knows no bounds of time nor space!
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Post by Deleted on Aug 2, 2010 6:10:38 GMT -6
“ And they sing the song of Moses the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying, Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints” (Revelation 15:3). COVERING MANTLE
Marvelous Thy ways, O God; Grasses covering the sod, Blossoms springing from the clod, Roses where Thy feet have trod, Beauty everywhere.
Blessed Lord, I plead of Thee, Canst Thou make a soul like me Lovely for eternity, Fit to dwell where there must be Beauty everywhere?
Cover with that robe of Thine My guilty heart, incarnadine. Appareled thus, I too shall shine With radiant glory — Thine, not mine! Beauty everywhere!
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Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2010 4:27:45 GMT -6
“ He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven” (Psalms 107:29-30). DAFFODILS IN MARCH
O yellow blooms, who ever catch and hold In your bright chalices His wealth of gold, Do you not feel these days of cold and storm, Or does your heart's stored sunshine keep you warm?
I, too, although life's storms about me beat, Within my soul there dwells a peace so sweet My heart is warm though days be dark and drear ... It is my living Lord, so near, so dear!
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Post by Deleted on Aug 4, 2010 1:58:54 GMT -6
“ Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7). THE RED SEA
When the children of Israel crossed the sea It comforts my heart to know That there must have been many timorous ones Who faltered and feared to go;
Feared the ribbon of road which stretched Ahead like a narrow track With the waves piled high on either side, And nothing to hold them back —
Nothing to hold them back but a Hand They could neither see nor feel. Their God seemed distant and far away, And only the peril real.
Yet the fearful ones were as safe as the brave, For the mercy of God is wide. Craven and fearless, He lead them all Dry shod to the other side.
And I think of the needless terror and pain We bring to our own Red Sea. Strengthen Thy timorous ones, dear Lord, And help us to trust in Thee!
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Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2010 10:12:12 GMT -6
“ And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay” (Matthew 28:5-6). THE WOMEN AT THE TOMB
O empty tomb, we came to mourn Beside you in the dawn, And now we stand amazed to find Your holy Tenant gone.
Surely never dwelt before This still joy in a tomb, This hint of brushing wings, this scent Of lilies come to bloom!
Nor does this sepulcher of His Know door or fretted bars, But through it blows the living wind, And it is roofed with stars.
Its very silence cries aloud. Shout, shout the news abroad That from this empty tomb walked forth The living Son of God!
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2010 7:06:38 GMT -6
“ Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain. Be ye also patient; stablish your hearts: for the coming of the Lord draweth nigh” (James 5:7-8). HIS FOOTFALL DRAWETH NEAR
Above the cannon's roar we hear His voice, “Let no man take thy joy, My Bride! Rejoice!
“Behold, I have prepared a place for thee, That where I am, there thou shalt ever be.
“Look up — hold fast for yet a little space; A few more days, and thou shalt see My face,”
A few more tasks, to make thy rest more sweet, A few more sheaves to lay before My feet,
A few more tears, which I shall wipe away, A few more nights, and then eternal day!'
Above the sound of shot and shell we hear, With ear of faith, His footfall drawing near!
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Post by Murph on Aug 7, 2010 7:25:41 GMT -6
What an appropriate poem for these days!
Amen.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2010 7:37:41 GMT -6
“ And so shall we ever be with the Lord” (I Thessalonians 4:17). AND SO SHALL WE EVER BE WITH THE LORD I say the words over and over, broodingly, thoughtfully, wistfully, longingly. It seems to meet every need, to include the whole blessed plan of salvation. When I am weary it rests me, when I am weak it strengthens me, when I am lax it spurs me on to fresh endeavor with the knowledge that some time soon, our opportunity for soul-saving will be over, and we shall stand before His throne and hear Him ask, “What have you done for Me?” When I am tempted this verse shames the temptation away, when I am sad it comforts me, and when I am in the slough of despond it gives wings to my spirit and lifts me far above earthly things. Nothing else matters. Just a few short years or days here, just a little more of pain and sorrow, a little longer time to work for Him, and then to be forever with the Lord, “whom, having not seen, we love.” What will be our love and adoration when we have actually seen His blessed face! O come quickly, Lord Jesus, for these eyes of ours long to behold Thee, this weary flesh cries for release from pain, these oftimes fainting souls of ours would be at home with Thee. And more than all else, we would see every knee bow before Thee, and behold Thee crowned King of kings and Lord of lords! “ And so shall we ever be with the Lord.”
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Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2010 4:42:13 GMT -6
“ Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life” (John 6:67-68). JESUS, MY LORD
Whom do I hunger for? Thee, Living Word! Feed Thou my famished soul, Jesus, my Lord.
Who is my cleansing Fount? From sin, abhorred, Who else can wash me save Jesus, my Lord?
How does the battle go? Jesus, my Lord, No man can stand before Thy Spirit's Sword!
Whom am I waiting for? Thy footfall, heard, Raptures my yearning soul, Jesus, my Lord.
Soaring on eager wing Past planets toward Mansions Thy hands have reared, Jesus, my Lord!
Dazzled by heaven's gate . . . His voice, adored, “This is thy home, My child.” Jesus, my Lord!
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