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SWEET THE HOUR AT JESUS’ FEET
Sweet is the hour to those who meet
In fellowship at Jesus’ feet,
Communing of the wondrous love
That drew him from his home above
Down to this world of sin and woe,
That we the way of life might know,
Might here by faith in Him prepare
That precious robe the “bride” shall wear.
Sweet is this hour; but none can tell
What glories in those mansions dwell,
Reserved beyond life’s rolling tide;
For those who in the Lord confide,
Who bear the toil, the cross sustain,
And know to die in Christ is gain,
Shall in his Kingdom glories share
And shine as jewels bright and fair.
Sweet is this hour; but oh how blest
The one that ushers in our rest!—
That ope’s to our enraptured eyes
The glories of our heavenly prize,
Where clothed in bridal robes we’ll stand
As kings and priests at Christ’s right hand,
While heavenly hosts before him fall
And hail him King and Lord of all.
—A. H. Bigelow.
— February 15, 1898 —
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