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Poems: With a Sketch of the Life and Experience of Annie R. Smith

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    “They Shall be Mine.”

    Malachi 3:16, 17.PSAS 146.3

    They shall be mine in the coming day,
    When I shall gather my chosen ones;
    When the Lord shall rise to the spoil and prey,
    And the year of Zion’s redemption comes.
    They shall be mine! the chosen few
    Who dare to honor my holy name,
    Who yield their hearts to their Maker, true, And bear his cross nor heed the shame,
    And turn not back for the scoffers’ boasts—
    They shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts.
    PSAS 146.4

    They shall be mine in the fearful hour
    When heaven shall part as a shattered scroll;
    And earth shall reel from Jehovah’s power
    And death shall seize on the sinner’s soul;
    Then will the Lord to his servants bring
    A crown for the cross which here they bore;
    And loud their shouts of joy will ring;
    And then shall be heard and feared no more
    The critic’s sneer, and the scoffer’s boasts,
    When saints shall be owned by the Lord of hosts.
    PSAS 147.1

    They shall be mine in whom alone
    Is power to save and to destroy;
    And as one spares his only son,
    So will I spare my people’s joy.
    When the treach’rous hopes of the wicked flee,
    And pestilence wastes the sons of men,
    My servants true shall find, in me,
    A refuge and a shelter then;
    And skeptics all shall cease their boasts
    In terror for the Lord of hosts.
    PSAS 147.2

    Then who would shrink from the lowly band,
    Who make their peace with the King of kings?
    He holds the worlds in his mighty hand,
    He rules o’er all created things;
    His arm alone can bear us up
    When earth is drinking her dregs of woe;
    His mercy alone is ground for hope,
    His chosen only will safety know—
    Ah! then who cares for the scoffer’s boasts,
    If he may be owned by the Lord of hosts.
    PSAS 147.3

    In that dread day, when the proud and great
    For rocks and mountains shall vainly call,
    And kings and nobles, in high estate,
    Shall be robed alike in a funeral pall;
    When the Judge appears in the parting sky,
    And the angel-reapers from glory come
    To bear the good to their realms on high,
    And all thy saints are gathered home,
    From the isles afar, and the distant coasts—
    Let me be thine, O Lord of hosts!
    PSAS 148.1

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