A Poem by Basilea Schlink

“I think of the love of God as a great river, pouring through us even as the waters pour through our ravine at floodtime. Nothing can keep this love from pouring through us, except of course our own blocking of the river. Do you sometimes feel that you have got to the end of your love for someone who refuses and repulses you? Such a thought is folly, for one cannot come to the end of what one has not got. We have no store of love at all. We are not jugs, we are riverbeds.” – Amy Carmichael

Published January 11, 2018 |

The holy hour is coming,
When from the heavenly throne
God’s Son, who was incarnate,
Will come to claim His own.He waits with love expectant
For His beloved bride.
Her life to Him she’s given;
With bonds of love she’s tied.

She hastens quickly to Him
With joy and heavenly bliss,
In every way preparing,
To be completely His.

For through the blood of Jesus,
She now may walk in white,
Attain the heavenly wedding,
His realm of purest light.

The midnight hour is striking,
And dawn no longer far.
So keep a constant vigil,
Soon shines the morning star.

Oh, live then for His advent.
The trumpet sound is near,
Announcing He is coming.
At last the day is here!

From her book ‘My All for Him’