Sunday Considerations: Thoughts of Home

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Thoughts of Home
by Anna Shipton

O Lord, ’twas Thine to labor and wear the thorns for me;
Thou sharest all my sorrows; Thou knowest what ’twill be
To see the Father’s glory, to hear Thy welcome there,
Where never cross or burden remains for us to bear.

 

I seem to pace the glittering street, and hear the harps of gold,
The echo of the new song that never groweth old;
I hear Thy praise, Lord Jesus, my Life, my Lord, my King,
Until my worn heart pineth the strains of heaven to sing.

 

Safe in the better country my loved ones I shall find,
And some in that bright multitude I feared were left behind;
Then loud shall sound our praises within the jasper wall,
As cherubim and seraphim before the Holiest fall.

 

With folded wings, expectant, the angel bands will come
To listen to the tale of grace that wooed the children home;
And sitting at Thy feet, Lord, my joyful lips shall tell
How much He hath forgiven, who “doeth all things well.”

 

Thou blessed Spirit, cheering this valley land for me,
With glimpses of the glory of that which soon shall be;
Each harpstring, dull and broken, Thy gentle breath awaits;
Then let me sing of JESUS up to the golden gates.
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The above article was posted on August 3, 2013 by Mark Lamprecht.
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