The Rapture


The Rapture a poem by Keith Ross


Great is Thy faithfulness, in which I dwell;

You rescued me from my captors, rescued from eternal hell.

Thunderstorm on Lake

Bright is Your light Lord, I bask and I taste;

The fragrance of Jesus, I shall not let waste.

From morning to night, firm in the grasp of Your hand;

In this world without You Lord, I shall never stand.

Grace upon grace, day upon day;

Into Your trust Lord, this earthen vessel I lay.


I sing aloud to my God, with the Saints of old;

Of the mercies upon mercies, which never were told.

They shower upon me, these waters from on high;

Till the day I see my sweet Jesus, the day that I die.


Oh that blessed day holds a place in my heart;

To see Thy glory, to never be apart.

Hold me in the arms of Your sweet embrace,

Hold me O’ God till we dance face to face.


The wedding banquet is near, I can see it now;

When my King Jesus, comes down from the cloud.

With the shout of a trumpet You call up and hold me near;

The story completed, how the angles watch and cheer.


Your bride has finally made it, she has finished the race;

Now we all live, in that blessed place.

I have come to Mount Zion, the heavenly city;

The cares of this world, there need no longer be pity.


Every tear that has fallen, you wipe from my eye,

Not ever again, shall one of Yours die.

Death is defeated, by the Lamb that was slain,

For eternity ever we shall praise Your great name!


– The Rapture

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