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Iíll go with You, Jesus, to Bethlehem,

Where You came to us as a babe;

Iíll look in the manger and smell the

sweet hay, And imagine the words

that were said.

Iíll go with You, Jesus, to Nazareth,

Where You grew up as most any boy;

Iíll see You at play on a beautiful day

And imagine a home full of joy.

Iíll go with You, Jesus, to Jerusalem,

Where the palm branches spread in Your path

Were a carpet of praise as You passed

by that way,

And You heard not a word of wrath.

But...Oh!...Must I go to Gethsemane?

Must I watch Your great sorrow there?

Must I stay with You Ďtil the morning dew

Falls silently on Your hair?

Oh, Jesus! I canít go to Calvary!

Itís my Lord and my King hanging there!

The blood dripping down - the vile,

thorny crown -

Oh, Jesus! Itís too much to bear!

...I want to go to His garden tomb -

To kneel in reverence there.

My crucified King - my sweet memories -

They fill the soft scented air.

"Tis the greatest joy my tongue can employ!

The great stone is rolled away!

Not mere memories, but a risen King

Is mine forever today!

The paths that I walk and the way

 that I talk -

All things - He forever shares!

Oh, my pathways are bright, for He is

my Light,

And will show me Heaven one day!

...Itís hard, Dear Lord, to remember

the lepers -

The smell of the sick You healed;

Itís hard to remember the garden prayer

As You in obedience yield;

Itís hard to remember the old rugged cross,

Where You suffered and died for me -

Yet these basic things gave the mightiest King

Ever known on the earth today;

Because You have risen and live in my heart,

And You guide me day after day

Is the reason why I watch the sky

As I journey on my way.

"Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus"

Joan Clifton Costner

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