In
the Garden of Beauty,
I
am cooled by the refreshment of Your presence.
The
heat of Thy wrath consumes all that is around me,
But
I am hidden within Thine own essence.
Outside,
Are
the wailings of those who refused You,
Their
torment is the beginning of their torment.
But
before me are the steps proceeding to Your temple gates,
Through
the doorway of Thy City of Testament.
Clothe
me,
In
the baptismal robe handed me by Disciples of Thy Word.
Place
Thy ring upon my finger,
Bejeweled
with the names of Your Children,
Foundations
that our ears have heard.
Upon
the steps of Thy Temple, I weep,
I
anguish in emotion, overwhelmed beyond need.
Below
is Thy garden, beyond are the coffins.
But
here is the emptied tomb,
Celebrating
the resurrection of Thee.
O
God,
You
have stretched me, carrying me as a Bride over Your Threshold, Declaring to all
Heaven Your own.
I
am before Your throne, O God, because of the Blood of Jesus,
Purposed
before any man was born.
The
temple steps are bloodied,
Stained
crimson from a pain required to allow each one after,
To
come this way.
In
Thy Garden of Beauty, I rested as a servant to Thy harvest until called,
Called
to You today.
You
have called me,
Called
me to You today.
Selah 