Your Candlestick Will Ever Burn

 The top of the hill, is where you are blessed..

Through every foothold, through every test.

When raindrops rage and you taste your fears..

The living God, will dry your tears.


Your candlestick, will ever burn..

Though portals open, to make you yearn.

As you purpose, in your heart..

Your fir tree, will be your cart.


When pride comes, to raise its head..

Know the righteous, are not dead.

The thoughts of mercy, be your mold..

For ever present, is your gold.


You are blessed, above the rest..

With gladness sealed, in God's own nest.

From your lips, with sounds of praise..

You will sing, as demons gaze.




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