C A L L E D 


In the Garden of Beauty,

I am cooled by the refreshment of Your presence.

The heat of Thy wrath consumes all that is around me,

But I am hidden within Thine own essence.



Are the wailings of those who refused You,

Their torment is the beginning of their torment.

But before me are the steps proceeding to Your temple gates,

Through the doorway of Thy City of Testament.


Clothe me,

In the baptismal robe handed me by Disciples of Thy Word.

Place Thy ring upon my finger,

Bejeweled with the names of Your Children,

Foundations that our ears have heard.


Upon the steps of Thy Temple, I weep,

I anguish in emotion, overwhelmed beyond need.

Below is Thy garden, beyond are the coffins.

But here is the emptied tomb,

Celebrating the resurrection of Thee.


O God,

You have stretched me, carrying me as a Bride over Your Threshold, Declaring to all Heaven Your own.

I am before Your throne, O God, because of the Blood of Jesus,

Purposed before any man was born.


The temple steps are bloodied,

Stained crimson from a pain required to allow each one after,

To come this way.

In Thy Garden of Beauty, I rested as a servant to Thy harvest until called,

Called to You today. 

You have called me,

Called me to You today.


Called by Ronhales                                                                                                                                                                    2 Timothy 1:8-10

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