"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.
Iím 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 donít know why He loved me.
But, He has grace to lend!

If first, I lived with Jesus
And daily saw His face,
I canít 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
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