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Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Dried Flowers and My heavenly home is bright and fair and What various hindrances we meet

My heavenly home is bright and fair;
Nor pain nor death can enter there;
Its glittering towers the sun outshine;
That heavenly mansion shall be mine.

My Father’s house is built on high,
Far, far above the starry sky.
When from this earthly prison free,
That heavenly mansion mine shall be.

While here, a stranger far from home,
Affliction’s waves may round me foam;
Although, like Lazarus, sick and poor,
My heavenly mansion is secure.

Let others seek a home below,
Which flames devour, or waves o’erflow,
Be mine the happier lot to own
A heavenly mansion near the throne.

Then fail the earth, let stars decline,
And sun and moon refuse to shine,
All nature sink and cease to be,
That heavenly mansion stands for me.

I’m going home, I’m going home,
I’m going home to die no more;
To die no more, to die no more,
I’m going home to die no more.

William Hunter

What various hindrances we meet,
In coming to the mercy-seat!
Yet who that knows the worth of pray’r,
But wishes to be often there?

Prayer makes the darkened clouds withdraw;
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw,
Gives exercise to faith and love,
Brings every blessing from above.

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;
Prayer makes the Christian’s armor bright;
And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.

Wm. Cowper

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