This weekend I went to meet some family members that I had not seen in a very long time. My heart is heavy with the lost condition of so very many souls that are striving to find that which will bring them the completeness that they so desperately crave. When I spoke of my Lord, they paused, but then continued on in the habitual path to which they are accustomed.
(Puritan Hymn)
Lord, I Am Thine
Lord, I am Thine; but Thou wilt prove
My faith, my pa-tience, and my love:
When men of spite a-gainst me join,
They are the sword, the hand is Thine.
Their hope and por-tion lies be-low;
'Tis all the hap-pi-ness they know,
'Tis all they seek; they take their shares,
And leave the rest a-mong their heirs.
What sin-ners val-ue, I re-sign;
Lord, 'tis e-nough that Thou art mine;
I shall be-hold Thy bliss-ful face,
And stand com-plete in right-eous-ness.
This life's a dream, an emp-ty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys sub-stan-tial and sin-cere;
When shall I wake, and find me there?
O glo-rious hour! O blest a-bode!
I shall be near and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more con-trol
The sa-cred plea-sures of my soul.
My flesh shall slum-ber in the ground,
Till the last trum-pet's joy-ful sound;
Then burst the chains with sweet sur-prise,
And in my Sav-iour's im-age rise.