GOLDEN (and my painting) When we are tried, we will come forth as gold Pure and refined to match the sky Which is the golden centrefold That reigns above, where evening light will die The matchless heavens hide their secret home The Land of Gold where seekers see Faintly at first, beyond the dome Far, far beyond the stars, real Home will be. That rarest metal, paints the evening now Nearer the Golden City will display its King where we will bow And see the Cross upon its Holy Hill. The persecuted, golden ones will walk No longer through the fire of pain But with the Suffering One will talk And we, with them, absorb His Love like rain.
