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Friday, July 4, 2014

Cosmos, Butterfly Bush Blooms and Peonies with Weep not for a brother deceased and It may be at morn, when the day is awaking

  Weep not for a brother deceased,
  Our loss is his infinite gain;
A soul out of prison released,
  And freed from its bodily chain;
With songs let us follow his flight,
  And mount with his spirit above,
Escaped to the mansions of light,
  And lodged in the Eden of love.

  Our brother the haven hath gained,
  Out-flying the tempest and wind;
His rest he hath sooner obtained,
  And left his companions behind,
Still tossed on a sea of distress,
  Hard toiling to make the blest shore,
Where all is assurance and peace,
  And sorrow and sin are no more.

  There all the ship’s company meet,
  Who sailed with the Saviour beneath;
With shouting each other they greet,
  And triumph o’er sorrow and death:
The voyage of life’s at an end;
  The mortal affliction is past;
The age that in heaven they spend,
  Forever and ever shall last.

Charles Wesley
It may be at morn, when the day is awaking,
When sunlight thro’ darkness and shadow is breaking,
That Jesus will come in the fullness of glory,
     To receive from the world “His own.”

It may be at mid-day, it may be at twilight,
It may be, perchance, that the blackness of midnight
Will burst into light in the blaze of His glory,
     When Jesus receives “His own.”

While its hosts cry Hosanna, from heaven descending,
With glorified saints and the angels attending,
With grace on His brow, like a halo of glory,
     Will Jesus receive “His own.”

Oh, joy! oh, delight! should we go without dying,
No sickness, no sadness, no dread and no crying,
Caught up thro’ the clouds with our Lord into glory,
     When Jesus receives “His own.”

O Lord Jesus, how long, how long
Ere we shout the glad song,
Christ returneth;
Hallelujah! hallelujah!  Amen, Hallelujah! Amen.

H. L. Turner

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