Poetry

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There are no more mourning chains.
My season of freedom is at hand.
Death and it's sting are gone with thier gloom.
The Lamb that was slain has escaped from the tomb
and I follow the Prince of Life
into the Promised Land.
My weeping is done-
the stone of sorrows rolled away.
I'm free from tomorrow's worries
and the burdens of yesterday.
He is risen and ascended to glory
but has left me not alone.
He's sent down the Spirit to comfort and guide
His and His Father's own.
And I stand and I walk in the peace of the Lord-
perfect peace,
and with the Spirit's sword
I divide the truth from the enemies lies,
defend my hope, expose false pride.
And I live and thrive in the grace of God-
glorious grace.
And the angels applaud
the finished work of the Son-
the meek, the merciful, Soverign One.
No more mouning chains but morning praise and sweet refrains.
Praises born of truths colliding
praises lifted - God abiding.
Now I'm seated in Christ,
on the King of King's right side!

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