All the houses in this plague stricken land

(Charles Spurgeon, "Nunc Dimittis" #1014)

To many this world is very sweet, very fair.

But God puts bitters into the cup of His children.

When their nest is soft, He fills it with thorns to
make them long to fly. Alas, that it should be so,
but some of Godís servants seem as if they had
made up their minds to find a rest beneath the
moon. They are moonstruck.

All the houses in this plague stricken land
are worm eaten, and let in the rain and wind!

My soul longs to find a rest among the ivory
palaces of Your land, O Immanuel.




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