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Lowell Brueckner

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Heaven's King Answers Prayer


Here are my first and only poor attempts at poetry.

Into God’s sanctuary, from a desperate heart comes a plea,
It echoes through its sacred halls, floats over the glassy sea;
It is carried by angels’ wings, upon living creatures’ wheels,
The only voice in a silent heaven, to the altar of incense it steals.

Holding a golden censer, a heavenly apothecary waits,
Mingling with incense those simple words, an unearthly aroma creates;
So it ascends to God’s throne, now let the earth beware,
The awesome power that will fall from above, when the King of heaven answers prayer.


1. There is a nation of princes and priests,
Who gain nothing through temporal investment;
Who set down no roots in this world’s poor soil,
But inherit God’s will and testament.

2. These royal priests have a high call and aim,
To walk down halls of infinity;
To gaze on endless and limitless beauty,
To know the heights and depths of divinity.

God is our inheritance
His presence is our aim.
God is our inheritance
We revel in His name.