Holding Hands in Prayers

We’re to come night morning noon
Before Thy throne to commune
With Thee most fervently all
Things that upon us doth fall

What doth trouble thy dear soul
And stops thee from being whole?
Bring it dear child to My feet
As I sit on My judgement seat

My ear is ever open to hear
Thy earnest cry loud and clear
Look up fainting troubled one
And Grasp the hand of the Son

I’m waiting for Thee to call on Me
Will you decide to ignore My plea
And face the foe all alone defeat
Is assured and thy fate you’ll meet

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