Take me to the Place where the saints gather,
To the convention of the just made perfect;
Where the clouds of glory settle and tongues of fire dance;
To the atmosphere so pure that I come undone to be refined.
It is where David dances and Solomon sits to be taught;
A place whose gates Sampson’s strength does not qualify him to guard.
Take me to the Mountain up which people flow
And down which descend the rivers of Life –
The waters of which makes the heart glad;
With ancient trees, eternal fruits, and healing leaves;
Where liberty dwells and wisdom counsels.
Take me to the King who sits on the throne not made with hands,
Hidden in unapproachable light amidst the burning coals of fire;
Who speaks once and is heard twice – echoing into eternity;
With a voice like the sound of many rushing waters,
And whose words are sharp double-edged swords.
Take me to the Place where I’m welcome – always;
Where I’m priceless but bought, slave to freedom;
Where I need only enter with thanksgiving and praise,
Where I’m a prince and a priest – no shackles or stains.
“Welcome to the Place that is both here and there;
Where the arms of Love welcome into the bosom of Faith;
Here mourning turns to joy and beauty springs from ashes.
All things are made new….Can you see it?”
I Timothy 6:16