I found these words about a year ago, by a man from England named Brian Thompson. They seemed to be just for me at that dark and painful hour.
"If this life were all that mattered, if its hopes and fears were all,
How could you squeeze one life into a place so cramped and small?
And if this life were everything, what would we ever do,
with the soul’s own quiet longing, for the land it never knew?
But there is another country and there is another land
There’s a promise waits fulfillment, and there is an outstretched hand.
And a journey to be taken and a destination found,
And my travels won’t be over, till I stand on holy ground.
Because nothing here is like it and nothing else will do
It’s the land of my possessing and the home I was born to.
In my sleep and in my waking, I can hear the call so strong.
And I understand the music, though I have not learnt the song.
There’s a crown and there’s a country, there’s a king and there’s a throne,
There’s a people with a longing and a language all their own.
They are born of tribulation they are born of fire and flood.
They are born of Christ’s own Spirit, they are born of Christ’s own blood.
They are standing in the presence of a God who knows their name
And they shine like stars for beauty and they burn like purest flame:
For they held their lives much cheaper than the Name they held most dear;
And the one they lived and died for, is the one who called them here.
And their praise flows like a river and their worship like the sea,
It’s the sound of many waters, it’s the shout of victory.
They’re the called and they’re the chosen, they’re the ransomed from the fall,
And the witness of the weakest, is the wonder of them all.
They’re his loved and they’re his longed-for, they’re his joy and his delight.
For each one of these he travailed, they are his and his by right
They are near him, and they know him, and now nothing lies between;
For they see no longer darkly, but they see as they are seen.
Every name and every nation, every tribe and every tongue
Gathered here to join the chorus of the song that must be sung,
And the music soars yet higher, like an eagle on the wing
On the day of coronation, of the Christ already King.
Then the books will all be opened and the Book of Life will show,
Those who know the God they’ve come to, those who only claimed to know.
Every sleeping conscience woken, every hidden thing made known,
Every secret refuge shattered, every fond illusion flown.
Every argument grown silent, every last lie swept away,
It’s the final close of business, and the dawn of Judgment Day.
And the tears of godly sorrow and the tears of angry pain,
Will be joined for one brief moment and will never meet again.
For this is no flight of fancy and this is no distant dream.
You are closer than you know and you are nearer than you seem.
There’s a destiny here waiting and a journey to be done;
For the pilgrim and the stranger, for the daughter and the son.
At the last, the waiting over, every perfect thing in place,
No more needing, only knowing, no more growing, only grace.
And the bride in borrowed beauty, shines like crystal in the sun
And the Bridegroom, with delight, declares the wedding feast begun!"
By Brian Thompson from England
