At the cry of Holy, Holy!
Do the elders fall
And cast their crowns at Jesus' feet
They give Him glory, all.
And to this end I do employ
My life, yes all my days
To give the Lord God glory
Praise Him for all His ways.

When I receive the crown of life
I'll cast it at His feet
And say, 'I don't deserve it Lord
for You are all I seek.'

Jesus looks at me and smiles
Tells me, 'You are My own.'
Places the crown back on my head
Then leads me to His Throne,
And as I sit beside Him there
Tears run down my face;
Because He whispered in my ear
'My son, you've won the race.'

James 1:12; Revelation 4:8-11

index previous poem next poem