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"On
the
willows
there,
we
hung
up
our
lyres.
For
there
our
captors
required
of
us,
songs,
and
our
tormentors,
mirth,
saying,
"Sing
us
one
of
the
songs
of
Zion!"
How
shall
we
sing
the
Lord's
song
in
a
foreign
land?"
Psalms
137:2,
4
My
heart
feels
like
the
captives.
I’m
in
a
foreign
land.
My
home
is
over
yonder,
Upon
a
golden
strand.
The
purchase
price
was
heavy,
But
not
for
me
~
for
Him!
I
don’t
know
why
He
loved
me.
But,
He
has
grace
to
lend!
If
first,
I
lived
with
Jesus
And
daily
saw
His
face,
I
can’t
imagine
coming
To
this
dark
fallen
place.
I
would
feel
nothing
less
Than
foreign
to
this
place;
Where
there
is
scant
forgiveness
And
men
live
in
disgrace.
How
could
I
sing
~
make
melody?
My
heart
would
be
like
lead.
For,
Jesus
is
the
substance
of
The
Song,
the
Bible
says.
I
crown
Him
King
of
everything;
My
life,
my
heart,
and
soul.
I
listen
for
the
angel's
song.
For,
Heaven
is
my
goal!
Joan Clifton Costner
2004
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rights
reserved.
The
Library
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