My mother read of
Jesus
In our black Bible
book;
I heard of His
compassions,
And sympathetic
look.
My father read of
Jesus
Who came to clear
men's sin
Once in the course
of ages
To make us clear
within.
The preachers told
of Jesus,
Descended from
above,
Who came to deal
with sorrows
In His descending
love.
His people spoke of
Jesus
Upon the Father's
throne;
They praised and
sang and worshipped
Because they were
His own.
At length I came to
know Him -
Compassion was for
me;
For me He came from
glory,
For me endured the
tree.
For me He has
ascended
To sit at God's
right hand;
For me He sent the
Spirit
That I might
understand.
For me He has
provided
A company of saints;
For me His ear is
open -
He listens to my
plaints.
The stories about
Jesus
Are wonderful and
true,
But do you know His
sorrows
Were undergone for
you?
The glorious love of
Jesus
Is always fresh and
new;
It warms the hearts
of many -
But is it known by
you?
We know God gave to
Jesus
The place that is
His due
But now He seeks the
first place
Within your heart,
from you.
The Lord is coming
for me,
And all who are His
own,
To take us to be
with Him
And with Him share
His throne.
Will you be one who
answers
His great assembling
cry?
Will you be waiting,
ready
To live with Him on
high?
