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Saturday, August 2, 2014

Field and Counry House with When I can read my title clear and Call'd from above, a heav'nly race by birth

  When I can read my title clear
  To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,
  And wipe my weeping eyes.

  Should earth against my soul engage,
  And fiery darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at Satan’s rage,
  And face a frowning world.

  Let cares like a wild deluge come,
  Let storms of sorrow fall,
So I but safely reach my home,
  My God, my heaven, my all.

  There I shall bathe my weary soul
  In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
  Across my peaceful breast.
                          Isaac Watts

Call’d from above, a heav’nly race by birth,
Who once were but the toiling slaves of earth,
Now pilgrims here, we seek a heav’nly home,
Our portion in the ages yet to come!

There all the saints of ev’ry clime shall meet,
There each, with all, shall all the ransomed greet:
But oh! the height of bliss, O Lord, shall be
To owe it all, to share it all, with Thee!

That precious stream of water and of blood,
Which from Thy pierced side so freely flowed,
Has put away our sins of scarlet dye,
Washed us from ev’ry stain, and brought us nigh!

Lord, not a step of all the desert road,
No pain, no sorrow, not one heavy load,
But Thou with us dost sweetly sympathize-
Share all, with tender heart and pitying eyes!

Here we are strangers!  Lord, we do not crave
A home on earth, which gave Thee but a grave!
Thy cross has severed ties which bound us here:
Thyself our Treasure, in a brighter sphere!
                          James G. Deck

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