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Within the veil

March 1999 | by Faith Cook

But he, being full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God, (acts 7.55).

Seated at his Father’s throne,

Pleading ever for his own

Christ, the Son of Man, appears,

Constant through the changeful years.


Heedlessly I often stray

Slight his laws, forsake his way,

Fear to own his lowly part,

Love him with divided heart.


Still for me he lives and prays

Still his tender love displays

By his all-availing blood,

Pleads the wanderer’s cause with God.


But should sorrows press me sore

Christ stays seated now no more:

Jesus rises when he sees

All my soul’s extremities.


Rises from that place on high

Mindful of his children’s cry,

All his heart with pity moves

For the grief of those he loves.


Each affliction, pain and tear

Jesus measures by his prayer,

Bears my burden of distress

High upon his kindly breast.


When at death’s appalling hour

Flesh must fail beneath its power,

Christ who broke that galling chain

Rises from his throne again.


Stands to greet with smiling face

Saints, long-loved to his embrace,

Calls the way-worn soul to come,

Welcoming his pilgrims home.

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