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          TrumpofGod.com  

    Sounding the Trumpet

BENEATH THESE STONES

by Ramsey Watchman

Beneath these stones,

A Rock of Ages,

Eternal rivers of living waters,

Life to the bones and fit to quench,

A burning tongue but all too late.

Beneath these stones,

A hidden valley,

Of thorns and thistles,

And lonely dry bones,

Come forth, come forth, ye living waters,

Be milk and meat to strengthening bones.

Beneath these stones,

A man had come,

A fellow and keeper,

A Watchman and ranger,

A captain and king,

The fruit in the mouth, sweet as honey,

In the bowels and the belly, the bitterest sting.

Beneath these stones,

A nation was born,

A peculiar people chosen to reign,

With eyes to see, yet blind in the night,

The fairest of princes, beyond their sight.

Arise, Arise,

From beneath these stones,

The flaming fire will warm your bones,

Arise and awaken,

Remove the veil,

All peoples, all nations, begin to wail.

Look up, Look up!

Your Redemption draweth nigh,

With great power and glory and blinding light,

The Watchman stands ready,

The trumpet it sounds,

The angels with chariots ride circling round,

The King of Great Glory, The Warrior Prince,

O Faithful and True be recompensed,

A great harvest of souls,

But the wicked be damned,

On the Mount of Olives He reclaims His land,

His standard is raised, His sword is drawn,

From beneath these stones,

Every soul be re-born.

The End

©2020