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Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Green Eggs, Blue Vase and Red-Orange Flowers and We are pilgrims looking home

We are pilgrims looking home,
Sad and weary, oft we roam,
But we know ‘twill all be well in the morning;
When, our anchor safely cast,
Ev’ry stormy wave is past,
And we gather safe at last in the morning.

O these tender broken ties,
How they dim our aching eyes,
But like jewels they will shine in the morning;
When our victor palms we bear,
And our robes immortal wear,
We shall know each other there in the morning.

When our fettered souls are free,
Far beyond the narrow sea,
And we hear the Savior’s voice in the morning;
When our golden sheaves we bring
To the feet of Christ our King,
What a chorus we shall sing in the morning.

Thro’ our pilgrim journey here,
Tho’ the night is sometimes drear,
Let us watch and persevere till the morning;
Then our highest tribute raise
For the love that crowns our days,
And to Jesus give the praise in the morning.

When we all meet again in the morning,
On the sweet, blooming hills in the morning;
Never more to say good night
In that sunny region bright,
When we hail the blessed light of the morning.

Lizzie Edwards

Monday, December 5, 2011

Mother's Mirror and Fresh Peonies with God will fill our hearts for service and All praise to Him who reigns above

God will fill our hearts for service,
In the same old way;
He will answer prayer and bless us
In the same old way.

Does your heart burn for another
In the same old way?
Will you seek to win some other
In the same old way?

God will help the weak and weary
In the same old way;
He will cheer the life that’s dreary
In the same old way.

Will you tell the wondrous story
In the same old way?
That your Lord may have the glory
In the same old way?

In the same old way,
In the same old way;
God will bless and save His people
In the same old way.

All praise to Him who reigns above,
In majesty supreme;
Who gave his Son for man to die,
That he might man redeem.

His name above all names shall stand,
Exalted more and more,
At God the Father’s own right hand,
Where angel hosts adore.

Redeemer, Savior, Friend of man,
Once ruined by the fall,
Thou hast devised salvation’s plan,
For thou hast died for all.

His name shall be the Counsellor,
The mighty Prince of Peace,
Of all earth’s kingdoms conqueror,
Whose reign shall never cease.

The ransomed hosts to thee shall bring
Their praise and homage meet;
With rapturous awe adore their King,
And worship at his feet.

Then shall we know as we are known,
And in that world above
Forever sing around the throne
His everlasting love.

Blessed be the name, blessed be the name,
Blessed be the name of the Lord;
Blessed be the name, blessed be the name,
Blessed be the name of the Lord.

W. H. Clark

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Sleeping Cat with Hark to the music resounding and I am waiting for the Master

Hark to the music resounding,
Reapers are needed today;
Fields are all white, to the harvest
Let us be up and away!
Ever the Master is calling,
Hasten! the shadows are falling;
On to the harvest field,
Gather the golden yield,
Precious sheaves.

Forward with hearts full of gladness,
Reapers, I pray you, make haste;
Grain there is ready and waiting,
If not soon gathered, will waste;
Then let us hear you replying,
Labor with courage undying,
Send up a word of cheer,
Tell of the rest so near,
Rest at home.

Hark to the song they are singing!
See, they have treasures so rare;
Soon will the harvest be ended,
Haste, then, their trophies to share.
Let no one be idly dreaming,
Look! look! the harvest is gleaming,
Join ye the reaping band,
Lend them a helping hand,
Ere the night.

Hark! hark! comes the song,
On!  on!  join the throng;
Forth with joyful, loving heart,
Bravely do your part;
Hark! hark! rings the call;
Haste! haste! one and all;
On where the harvest stands,
Waiting for willing hands
Souls to win.

Lizzie DeArmond

I am waiting for the Master,
Who will bid me rise and come
To the glory of his presence,
To the gladness of his home.

Many a weary path I’ve traveled,
In the darkest storm and strife,
Bearing many a heavy burden, -
Often struggling for my life.

Many friends that traveled with me
Reached that portal long ago;
One by one they left me battling
With the dark and crafty foe.

Yes, their pilgrimage was shorter,
And their triumphs sooner won;
Oh, how lovingly they’ll greet me
When the toils of life are done.

Yet, O Lord, I wait thy pleasure,
For thy time and ways are best;
Hear me, Lord, for I am weary;
O my Father, bid me rest.

They are watching at the portal,
They are waiting at the door;
Waiting only for my coming
All the loved ones gone before.

Mrs. Kate M. Reasoner