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All Manner of Precious Stones

Gerhard Ter Steegen

Mal. iii. 17

There it is fair,

Where thousand, thousand flames for evermore

In God's high palace glow,

No more they light the dark and misty shore,

As long ago:

They burn, a crown of every radiant stone,

For ever and for ever round the throne,

Christ's diadem.

Eternal lamps that never can be dim,

Fed by the golden oil that flows to them

For ever from the Heart whence flowed the Blood,

They shine with light of every precious gem,

Light of the joy of God.

Past, pain and sorrow, and all sighs and tears,

All shadows and all stains,

The former things of all the ancient years,

And Christ remains.

All swallowed up in fulness of the joy

Where Jesus is—

For spirit, soul, and body, one employ,

To share His bliss.

There do the lips of babes tell forth His ways,

His wonders deep;

And sweet their song, and innocent their praise,

For they have known but Heaven's unsullied days

And earth's short sleep,

To wake in everlasting gladness there,

Where all is fair.

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