Within The Arms Of Christ's Caress

Why do the heathen rage
And do the things which God hates?
They persecute us every every day
For whom God's earth was planned and made
While planting snares with bloody hands
To kill the righteous in the land
They think they'll gain by causing loss
But fail to count eternal costs
For Christ hath said when their hearts fail
They'll populate the lowest hell
But those upon whose backs are laid
Stripes of vice and cruelest hate
These shall live in heaven's bliss
And feel the scent of God's own kisses
For as He on earth was much abused
And bore the marks of satan's tools
If we, Christ's "bride" must be reviled
This too will pass, - in just a while.
Then from the heights of God's domain
We'll view the smoke of sons of Cain
Ascend forever to mark the place
Of all who spent their lives in hate
But we shall have sweet peace and rest
Within the arms of Christ's caress.

Copyright 2008
Stan Simons ASCAP