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Saturday, March 29, 2014

Blue Skies, Yellow Cosmos with I know not when the Lord will come and CHRIST, of all my hopes the Ground

I know not when the Lord will come,
Or at what hour He may appear,
Whether at midnight or at morn,
Or at what season of the year.

I know not what of time remains,
To run its course in this low sphere,
Or what awaits of calm or storm,
Of joy or grief, of hope or fear.

I know not what is yet to run
Of spring or summer, green or sere,
Of death or life, of pain or peace,
Of shade or shine, of song or tear.

The centuries have come and gone,
Dark centuries of absence drear;
I dare not chide the long delay,
Nor ask when I His voice shall hear.

I do not think it can be long,
‘Till in His glory He appear;
And yet I dare not name the day,
Nor fix the solemn advent year.


I only know that He is near,
And that His voice I soon shall hear;
I only know that He is near,
And that His voice I soon shall hear.
         Horatius Bonar
CHRIST, of all my hopes the Ground,
  Christ, the Spring of all my joy,
Still in Thee may I be found,
  Still for Thee my powers employ.

Fountain of o’erflowing grace,
  Freely from Thy fulness give;
Till I close my earthly race,
  May I prove it “Christ to live.”

Firmly trusting in Thy blood,
  Nothing shall my heart confound;
Safely I shall pass the flood,
  Safely reach Emmanuel’s ground.

When I touch the blessed shore,
  Back the closing waves shall roll;
Death’s dark stream shall nevermore
  Part from Thee my ravished soul.

Thus, O thus, an entrance give
  To the land of cloudless sky;
Having known it “Christ to live,”
  Let me know it “gain to die.”
        Rev. Ralph Wardlaw

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