Hankering for That City thoughts in advance of Heaven copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2017
River It’s a river we search for Yes a stream lined with trees For the healing of nations In the Spirit’s fresh breeze. And the saints there are gathered All the broken made whole And the glorious creatures And apostles twelve-fold. Not a suffering remembered
Not a sigh damps the glow Of the Lamb’s throne eternal Only dreamed of below. And His servants are busy Want it no other way Casting crowns all before Him Who alone lights the Day. And this Day springs eternal Bitter nights all forgot Revelation a-plenty For what Mercy has wrought.
Psalm 72
Like gentle rain He comes to govern Fresh upon mown sod Son of Man in royal lineage Also Son of God Champion for the suffering Always Haven for the lost Banquet for the starving Liberal Sparing not the cost Nations line to Pay Him tribute His the Golden Realm Offering peace A mighty river Justice at the helm Fearsome still
The awesome prospect Of His righteous wrath Feeling men With half a conscience Dare not cross His path Gifts pour in And that right gladly Always in His debt Throne Eternal Shows our vision But a fraction yet.
Go To My Father
The American Civil War had ended and a banker and father of a Union Lieutenant waited for his son's return. He had last heard of one desperate final engagement of the regiment including his son. He knew not of the boy's state, and he waited with bated breath and repeated prayers. This was his only son. A knock finally came at the front door of the stately home and the man raced to open and see the end of his long wait. To his surprise there was another young man in uniform about the same age as his son. The youth introduced himself (we will call him Peter) and stated that he and the banker's son had become fast friends in the closing months of the war. In a pivotal struggle Peter had gotten trapped in the midst of a number of "Rebs" and his friend broke through the lines and carried him away to safety. The son had sustained critical injuries in the rescue. The father could hardly ask his next question, but the youth's expression confirmed his greatest fear. Without a word, Peter handed the old man a letter. It was from the son wishing the father blessings and introducing Peter as a dear friend. It stated that injuries were of a mortal nature and that it was not likely that the son would long survive. Would the father receive Peter back into household and estate in the same fashion as he would have received the son? The father, teary-eyed, took the young visitor into his home and life. All this was done out of love for the son.
Asleep in the Woods
Imagine a place of such delightful security that sheep could even sleep peacefully in the woods! We haven't seen it yet. There is not such peace in our nation, community or congregation. But Ezekiel foresaw a time when no frail, self-serving man would shepherd the flock, but rather God himself with his "servant David a prince among them". Is this a foreshadowing of the Millenial reign of Jesus on earth? Of Heaven? Chapter 34: 22Therefore will I save my flock, and they shall no more be a prey; and I will judge between cattle and cattle. 23And I will set up one shepherd over them, and he shall feed them, even my servant David; he shall feed them, and he shall be their shepherd. 24And I the LORD will be their God, and my servant David a prince among them; I the LORD have spoken it. 25And I will make with them a covenant of peace, and will cause the evil beasts to cease out of the land: and they shall dwell safely in the wilderness, and sleep in the woods. 26And I will make them and the places round about my hill a blessing; and I will cause the shower to come down in his season; there shall be showers of blessing.
Blind Warrior of Raiatea
My journey in the library stacks recently yielded a book by John Williams entitled "A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands" (John Snow, Publisher, London, 1838) In Journal fashion the martyr herald of the London Missionary Society retells some of his trials and victories among the native people of French Polynesia. The elderly blind man "Me" loved to hear stories of the merciful, miracle-working Jesus. He always had time and compassion for the bruised, estranged ones along the pathways of the Holy Land. Me would ask friends for many accounts of the Gospel tale and of the preacher's messages. Without much hesitation he became a Christian. This brought new joy to his tireless working of a field and occasional care of the little ones. But the day came when he was stricken with serious illness and bed-ridden. Others ravaged the crops of his field. Social custom suggested that this "useless one" be eliminated or starved. Williams found his friend in this pathetic condition and wondered why other recent converts had not fed or nursed Me. The old man's response was that he dare not beg for help. Better to go hungry than to embarrass and hinder the recent inroads of the Good News. Bedside, the old man related an encouraging vision to the "eyes of the heart": "I have been in great trouble this morning, but I am happy now. I saw an immense mountain with
precipitous sides, up which I endeavoured to climb, but when I attained a considerable height, I lost my hold and fell to the bottom. Exhausted with perplexity and fatigue, I went to a distance and sat down to weep, and while weeping, I saw a drop of blood fall upon that mountain and in a moment it was dissolved...That mountain was my sins, and the drop which fell upon it was one drop of the precious blood of Jesus, by which the mountain of my guilt must be melted away." Williams promised to return with food and medicine, which the old man agreed to accept. But he was quick to add that he was not looking for recovery but rather to depart and to be with the Lord, which was far better.
Of Caesar's Household
(Taken from The High Calling, Meditations on Philippians by J.H. Jowett, 1909, Fleming H. Revell Company) All the saints salute you, especially they that are of Caesar's household" (Phil. 4:22) "That is a very wonderful thing that the general river of Christian courtesy should be flowing from the hard precincts of imperial lust and tyranny... Here is a clean, clear river streaming out of the very centre of a poisonous swamp. Here is a sweet spring lifting its healthful waters in the bitter waste. Here is a white lily spreading its radiant purity above a very noisome bed. This is the kind of miracle to arrest and startle the world. Goodness in unexpected places! ...A commissioner of one of our great London dailies has recently been exploring some of the awful howling wastes of London's slums. He went into one court, and up one terrible flight of stairs, where gin and sweat and swearing and putridity were horribly commingled, and in the very thick of it all he heard a woman's sweet, clear, triumphant voice singing, "We thank Thee, O our Father, for all things bright and good." Yes, and the commissioner discovered that she was a saint indeed. But how adverse the environment. Where did the lovely fern find even the requisite pinch of friendly earth? God knows, and he provided it. It seems as though God's plants can laugh at circumstances, that they can sink strange roots right through their immediate setting, and reach such marvelous resources that their inhospitable environment counts for nothing."
Ezekiel Saw the Glory
Three blocks from our house the church sign read: "What is the Secret of Being Content?" Don't ask me why but the first thing that popped into my head was an image of a gyroscope. You remember the little child's metal spinning top? It had a symmetrical disk mounted half-way up a
spinning rod which was attached by pivots to a metal ring. The ring had affixed to it a head post and foot post. Pull a wind-up string and the unit would spin and maintain a straight-up position. My Dad explained that there was a balance of centripetal and centrifugal forces causing the toy to stand. You could put it on a table, on a tight string, on a drinking glass rim. But when the speed of spinning diminished the unit would start to wobble and eventually fall over. The prophet Ezekiel described a phenomenon which came to him in a vision. Within four wheels there were strange living creatures each having four faces one on each of four sides. Each of these wheels appeared to be in another wheel, much like the gyroscope: Ezekiel 1: 19 When the living creatures moved, the wheels beside them moved; and when the living creatures rose from the ground, the wheels also rose. 20 Wherever the spirit would go, they would go, and the wheels would rise along with them, because the spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels. 21 When the creatures moved, they also moved; when the creatures stood still, they also stood still; and when the creatures rose from the ground, the wheels rose along with them, because the spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels. The four faces of each creature were lion, ox, man and eagle. These have been accepted as symbols of the four Gospels: Jesus the King (lion); Jesus the Servant (ox); Jesus the Son of Man (man); Jesus the Son of God (eagle). Then my thoughts went to Paul's admonition repeated in the letter to the Philippians: "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice." This same Paul, imprisoned for his testimony of Christ, gave an astounding affirmation in chapter four: 11I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13I can do everything through him who gives me strength. So keep on spinning in the mystery of real life, in the Gospel which is the glory of God and which will never topple. That the Creator of all marvels of the universe, absolutely holy, has made a way to have perpetual fellowship with minuscule men and women because of the valiant service and sacrifice of Jesus, His beloved Son, the king-servant, man-God. And the sound one hears in the spinning goes something like this: "God is able. God loves me. He gave His Son for me. The blood of Calvary washes away all sin. Jesus understands my journey. He undertakes for my blessing. We will be together. I will not be desolate or cast down. Hallelujah!"
Spike
They called him Spike. Just like a nail. Totally bald. It was the chemo you know. Been that way for the last eighteen months. Now entering his junior year at McHale Secondary. Spike had been one of the most determined light weights on the wrestling team. Seems as if he had a unique twist to get himself out of every potential pin situation. His Coach Bradford could only shake his head as the little guy kept on coming out on top. But this year the treatments had really slowed him down. It had become necessary to make him the Team Manager, shouting encouragement and tips from off the mat. Another teacher, Miss Wyatt had a parallel affection for Spike. She knew that he was brilliant in his powers of expression, but holding back somewhat for fear of coming off as the “Browner” before his peers. No matter. This one would make it, if only the body would hold together. The tid-bits of exceptional prose and insight he offered in English class were some of Miss Wyatt’s signal moments in teaching. She fulfilled the role of Soul-Mother for several, not having ever enjoyed a family of her own. Spike had a secret friend, Charlie. The man received chemotherapy at the same clinic. Discussions in the waiting room had covered a number of topics, sports, favourite fiction, travel experiences, and surprisingly enough, the Gospels. Charlie had been a sales manager at a car dealership for over twenty years. The thought of his wife Caroline would always bring a smile to his face. They had had no children. The cancer had pretty much taken Charlie off his feet. He began to ask the big questions. No one in his family had ever been stricken. Tell me God…what’s fair. But a change had come. He had relinquished. Decided that no one was more worthy of the words compassionate, loving, true…no one more than God. It was clear to Spike that the man was in earnest and had a quality of life and thought each day higher and better than most others. Spike took a serious look at Luke’s Gospel, wrote an essay for Miss Wyatt on the scenario of Jesus’ mountaintop transfiguration followed by descent again into the valley of suffering for ones like the epileptic boy (Luke 9: 28-45). He heard of a Gospel concert coming to the local auditorium. Got a couple of his wrestling buddies to go with him. There was Spike, bald and shining, smiling radiantly, hands upraised as he gave his best in the praise choruses. Unknown to him, Coach Bradford had caught wind of the plan and was seated with his wife ten rows back, not wanting to cramp Spike’s style. Ripples of joy were emanating from that one pebble dropped into the pool of suffering with a grin and a hope. That pebble had only fourteen months left this side of Glory.
With God, Enough...
The stakes had been driven in Karl's field following a paltry yield of barley. The benches had come from the assembly hall down the town-line road. The posters had been tacked to the post office bulletin board. The preachers in no less than four denominations had announced the special week from their pulpits. And now Brother Fuller was in town, and the opening Friday night just hours away. That afternoon Fuller had brought together two dozen pillars of prayer in the tent and for 90 minutes they had importuned God's visit and power upon their struggling, recession-weary community. He said that the Master in Mark 6 had called His followers out of the everyday into a desert place, a dry place, and there He had performed the miracle of the loaves and fishes. Not in the city but out in the desert places. And this is where these faithful people of Oklahoma had found themselves for the last four years. Dusk with its cooling realization had come, and my wife and I, together with another young couple, had secured seats in the front third of the benches under the canvas. All of us felt the weariness of the day drifting away in the anticipation and good cheer of the gathering. The sawdust was underfoot. The banners on the tent wall: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Our friends were new to this experience, but it had not taken much courteous coaxing. A poor second crop. A part-time job disappearing with the closing of the lumber yard in town. A teen-age son in rebellion and mixing with some undesirables after school. The music began complete with fiddles, banjo, drums, accordian and trombone. The old favourites brought a comfort and an encouragement. "Got Any Rivers? You think are uncrossable. Got any Mountains? You can't tunnel through. God specializes in things thought impossible. He'll do for you what none other can do." And then the message from Brother Fuller. Parts of it remain still now, clear in the memory, filled with promise, and filled with the thrill of our young friends stepping forward in response to the call of Jesus: "Enough, friends, to be in His family; To relish in the engagement of real, caring prayer; To know that His Testament bequeathes us Life, unburdened conscience and new spiritual power. To sense foretastes of Heaven. Enough, to see His artistry at break of day; To hear His serenade in the turtledove; His optimism in a youngster's laugh. To thrill at His power in the thunderbolt, In the stinging wind over dry fields, In the deluge that fills the watercourses In mere minutes. Enough, to hear his words of rebuke To the Enemy, the Slanderer, And his underlings who whisper, threaten or foreclose; To understand His assurance that no man, no devil Shall take a child out of His hand. This is our Father, As represented by our Elder Brother.
This is salvation, and This is forever." The gathering and the ushering away of new converts. The singing of "Just a Closer Walk with Thee". The dismissal of the assembly out from the tent to the clarity of a sparkling late-summer night sky. The scenes remain vivid and awe-inspiring to us, some thirty years later.
'Til the Branch (Isaiah 11) No great Leader Impartial and compassionate Rescuing the poor Uniting all men’s hearts Setting down weapons Of avarice and bigotry Giving words of holiness And Heav’n the focal part. No great Standard To gather all in confidence No great City Where gates are open wide No great Highway Of passage safe and singing Drawing the nations To plenteous peace inside. No great Justice That crushes wicked scheming Granting the verdict To diligent and true. No great Banquet Where hunter and the hunted Feast royal provender Their chase- and- kill now through. Wait for the promise
Yes, just around the corner. Started with David The man who knew God’s heart. Ends with Messiah The Righteous Branch of wisdom Ends with the Family Who sing “How great Thou art.”
Isaiah 43
Don’t you get it? I am rescue And a shield from fire And torrents And persistent Calling hither. You are mine. You have faltered In the strange gods Wayward children Prone to mimic. Just as Jacob Tried to flee my Grip Divine. Cease the struggle I am ravished By the beauty Still kept hidden. Out of bondage To be gathered
In due time.
Simon of Cyrene
I could scarce believe my ears As the Roman soldier said: “You there, stranger, lift that cross, Follow Jesus, good as dead.” I had missed the troubled crowd, Having just come into town. Now I pressed beneath the load, Joined to him who wore a crown. All around humanity, Yet my thoughts were fixed on him. Why the back ripped to the bone? Why the cruel and thorny brim? How he struggled to ascend! How he laboured for his breath! Yet I sensed his body strove T’ward the hill marked for his death. It became a strange desire To relieve his tortured frame; To receive the brunt of burden, But to go on just the same. I was reckoning in me A compassion yet unknown, While he nobly took the taunts: “Where’s your kingdom? Where’s your throne?” Momentarily we stopped To console dear grieving friends. In his voice was total calm, Real concern for their lives’ ends. Then, too soon, my privilege passed. We had come to Calvary. “Thank you friend,” he gazed at me, Then they nailed him to the tree!
Oh, the truth welled up in me! Could the blinded mob not see? Here their sin’s death penalty. Here the Crux of Destiny. In the man from Galilee. In my friend who hung for me. There were two who shared his plight, Robbers, bearing each his cross. One would hail him Lord of Light. One would chose eternal loss. And such love etched on his face For the dogs who pierced and nailed. And a priestly prayer for grace, And a final psalm exhaled. At his death the skies were dark And the crowd stood hushed and awed. ‘Neath the profile still and stark, ‘Neath the battered Son of God. And a soldier lowered his head With a sense of grief and shame; For the gentle one now dead, For the folk who were to blame. And another thrust him through With a spear to his right side; Though already we all knew That the Holy One had died. And a woman beat her breast As she looked upon her son. And her sobs held one request, Just what evil had he done? How was I then to expect That in three days news would ring Of the tombstone rolled away? Of the resurrected King! But his converts would explain That for months the rabbi said, That Messiah must be slain And then risen from the dead. So, I give to you my joy. From my sin I am set free!
And my praise I will employ For the one who died for me: Simon, stranger, lift that cross. Follow Jesus good as dead. I will follow him forever, Living for my Lord instead.
Immeasurable
Do you dare measure The limits of Jerusalem Scope of her reaching Or gleaming of her light? You with the rod Of heartless feet And inches Tallies and tokens To gauge her worth aright? Pointless this plan To weigh the sum of mercy Sobs of relief Or joy of family found Words of Messiah That promise constant keeping Purpose and plenty To all on Holy Ground. Better you view A single act of kindness Savour the smell Of Jesus drawing near. Tend to the marvel Of widows’ love rekindled. Delight in laughter
Of children freed from fear. (Zechariah 2: 1-5)
Solid Food, Really?
The old evangelist had decided to come into town a week before the services to get a feel for the climate at the host church. He entered the sanctuary ten minutes before the official start and took an obscure seat. He saw some limited amount of real engagement between parishioners, and then the praise team wound up. Music was professional. Seasoned hymn book Gospel choruses were noticeably absent. A corporate effort at song was strained. Announcements followed as the clock raced on. "Oh the blessing of last week's get -together. Oh the promise of next week's seminar. Check your schedules. Don't miss it. And there will be food." Next came the offering. A reverent moment. Junior Pastor Terry Bullpen gave a prayer which was largely about blessing that offering. Some names of sick and shut-in were also raised. Jesus was thanked for His marvelous love. Senior Pastor Ernest Pitcher took the pulpit and checked for his wireless mike and remote prompter. What followed as a sermon was, in the estimation of the old evangelist...pablum. Basic principles of redemption. A sprinkling of personal anecdote and humour. A single foundation text lost sight of very quickly in a lecture of ethics and "should do's". A brief illustrative video on the overhead which was worth a chuckle. Then the noticeable shift into the earnest tone of voice and the altar call for salvation. Older members of the body could be heard chiming in, "Amen to that...Preach it Brother." Three rather embarrassed and confused "twenty-somethings" went forward for prayer. Elders raced forward to be at their sides. And then it was over. Greeters were already at the back door. The clock confirmed it. Eighty minutes and done. On the button. Second service to follow. The old evangelist shuffled forward to the pastors and introduced himself. "Gentlemen, does the main body of the assembly take what I just saw as solid food?" Pastor Pitcher responded, "Oh, so you are Brother Fuller! Well sir, we are an evangelical church and we tend to moderate the message for anxious inquirers and new believers in our midst. This we find bears fruit." "My friends if you dared to open up some of the deeper things of God and of His Christ you would continue to equip a viable force of prayer, of wonder, of vigour and of manifestation in your church family. Infant spirits would not be wooed intellectually. Rather they would see of the glory of God, loathe their uncleanness, become desperate and leap into the light...May I have such a liberty in the upcoming meetings?" Both pastors shuffled awkwardly. "Very well, I will make sure to be at home Tuesday evening at eight
o'clock for your phone call and decision." With that the old evangelist was gone. Somewhat flushed of face, Terry asked his mentor, "Did you GET any of that?" "Nope", Ernest replied. Fade to black...
Song of Ascents
It was just before sun-up on the morning of the Great Feast. Intentionally the traveling men and their sons had camped outside the City after days of adventure, songs, stories and reunion on the pilgrimmage. Young Caleb rubbed his eyes and stretched out stiff muscles after the sleep on the grass. He took a long swig from the water skin and squatted down at his lofty and full view of the City and the ascending arteries to the Temple. It seemed to shimmer in the dawning as if over-eager for sunlight to reveal its brilliance and magnificent design. Caleb thought of the dusty march and the robust fellowship and anticipation of the men. Laughter. Humming. Rhythmic hand clapping. Names called out in joyful recognition. The pace relentless, but quickened by the good thoughts of what lay ahead. This morning a solid band of cloud blocked the horizon's distinct line, but brought on, a few moments later, a more surreal rising above the vapour. Caleb could now see many groups of men stirring on other hillsides. This would be his third visit, and to a different feast. The psalms being recited spoke of the troubles and needs of men, the blessings of family, their sense of separation in a pre-occupied world, the all-sufficient power of God, His promise of Messiah and the heart-moving glory of His House. Not another morning for camp-fires and protracted meals. A few bits of fruit and bread, another swig of water, a pause for the face-anointing of oil, and the march would renew. Oh, the importance of giving their God a worthy house of recognition, learning, petition and praise. Caleb was also recognizing a sense of Spiritual Presence in the camp-site, in the larger scene of the other surrounding hills, in the quickening of his own eager heart. Another entire glorious day for God and His people. In Jerusalem. Psalm 132 (One of the Songs of Degrees) 1Lord, remember David, and all his afflictions: 2How he sware unto the LORD, and vowed unto the mighty God of Jacob; 3Surely I will not come into the tabernacle of my house, nor go up into my bed;
4I will not give sleep to mine eyes, or slumber to mine eyelids, 5Until I find out a place for the LORD, an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob. 6Lo, we heard of it at Ephratah: we found it in the fields of the wood. 7We will go into his tabernacles: we will worship at his footstool. 8Arise, O LORD, into thy rest; thou, and the ark of thy strength. 9Let thy priests be clothed with righteousness; and let thy saints shout for joy. 10For thy servant David's sake turn not away the face of thine anointed. 11The LORD hath sworn in truth unto David; he will not turn from it; Of the fruit of thy body will I set upon thy throne. 12If thy children will keep my covenant and my testimony that I shall teach them, their children shall also sit upon thy throne for evermore. 13For the LORD hath chosen Zion; he hath desired it for his habitation. 14This is my rest for ever: here will I dwell; for I have desired it. 15I will abundantly bless her provision: I will satisfy her poor with bread. 16I will also clothe her priests with salvation: and her saints shall shout aloud for joy. 17There will I make the horn of David to bud: I have ordained a lamp for mine anointed. 18His enemies will I clothe with shame: but upon himself shall his crown flourish.
Peter, Toward the Fiery End And here I sit In this little cottage. The flock are afraid As the Imperial wolf roams Seeking whom it may devour. The Master told me These days would come.
But also that I Would feed his sheep. That morning on the shore When fish and bread And His dauntless words Pulled my heart back. And He has never failed His visitings To the inner man Almost as real to me now. And I surprise myself Submission, patience, Forbearance, peace Things never to have been found In that blustering Fisherman Of former days. All of His work This I know. And now He promises Swift dismissal. He will sustain. A few searing moments And then the Light. I am ready. The Master is at hand. And I think it not strange. 1 Peter 4: 12, 13
Thief
So glad that I could do it In fleeting gasps of pain With arms outstretched
On Roman beams And clouds begun to rain. The One beside me Shows no hate His Mother down below And eye meets eye As oft before They held each other so. But this is not a common crowd The holy men preside And urge the rabble's Thirst for blood Most likely they had lied. "A King", they mock, "And is your Court A bloodied perch and crown?" Oh Saviour, time to save yourself Display your power Come down! But death is part And parcel yet You have your Father's word And you beseeched the darkening sky And He most surely heard. And I with scarce the breath to spare And justly here for crime Turn to you King And gladly sing Your pardon, Kingdom mine. Luke 23: 43
Far Better I love to read from the Apostle Paul in the Letter to the Philippians. The man is in prison and is corresponding with friends who are doing so very well in their newfound faith. He knows not whether he will be released; whether in fact his life is near the end. Paul states that he is in a challenging place between two desires; whether to depart and be with his Lord , or to remain as mentor and prayer supporter of the Philippians and many others. He states that the first option is “far better” and holds no fear for him. He believes however that his mission is not quite over. Paul realizes that for so long as his assignment remains incomplete, he is immortal. Indeed at Lystra he had been stoned and left for dead (Acts 14). But God raised him up and the missionary journeys continued. The extent of his afflictions has been fully recorded in 2 Corinthians 11. He counts it all joy to be “poured out” as an offering for the edification of his family of faith.
While in custody he notes that his supporters are steeled in their determination to spread the Gospel. He also notes that his captors are speaking of his strange ethic in a spirit of mockery, envy and disdain. This is of no real concern to him; in fact he takes it as a further advancement of the Kingdom. The Word of the Gospel cannot be defeated. Its deposit in the hearts of the Philippians can only work unto victory and Christ-like community and service: Philippians 1: 27. Only let your conversation be as it becometh the gospel of Christ: that whether I come and see you, or else be absent, I may hear of your affairs, that ye stand fast in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel; 28. And in nothing terrified by your adversaries: which is to them an evident token of perdition, but to you of salvation, and that of God.
Seamless Transition
When I have slipped this shell And kissed each loving face once more And find strange buoyancy To float weightless To that distant shore. When pains have fled And duties suit a former time. And eyes new-sparkling Marvel at all joys now mine. I haven’t one, not one Investment come matured That I can thank For this and bliss ‘Til now obscured. Oh Jesus, you are all I have to praise And walk with, laughing Through unending days. And being here, I sense All fear is gone And up ahead the saints
To love and be loved Halcyon.
Post script: I will have succeeded with these few gathered thoughts, if just a few hungry hearts are provoked to consider consequence, eternity, an end to present struggle, a glorious reunion, a Covenant with Jesus and a way out of the spiritual bankruptcy of Society's norm...Doug Blair