Monday, November 18, 2013

The LORD is My Shepherd

A little over two years ago, I awoke in the night to discover half my brain had dissolved without the slightest sensation. Couldn't move left leg or arm or eye. Considering that it involved a major cerebral passage, my recovery was miraculous even though my speech and finger dexterity are still improving. Just last week in response to a query, I maintained, "The LORD is my shepherd, even if the storm returns." Let me share my empathy for a testimony to which mine can hardly compare.

William Ralph Featherston was about twelve when the Civil War began. Little is known of him, except that sometime during those tumultuous years he wrote a poem. My Jesus I Love Thee, a poem that tells all we really know about this young man, and all we really need to know, except that in his twenty-seventh year, the "death dew" lay cold on his brow, and he was not, for God took him.
My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
For Thee all the follies of sin I resign.
My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

I love Thee because Thou has first loved me,
And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree.
I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

I’ll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;
And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight,
I’ll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright;
I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

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