The sufferings of this present age
Cannot compete with the things
My Lord has prepared for those
Who truly love Him.
No eye has ever seen,
No ear has ever heard,
No heart has ever felt,
No mind has ever known,
No tongue has ever tasted,
All the glories and beauties that await His children.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
This sin sick heart
That still beats inside my chest
Finds no rest
For its longings.
Night that can only be felt,
The weight of which is
Like cinder blocks drowning me in the ocean,
I wave my arms upward toward the surface,
But it pulls me deeper still.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
But I am His child
And His Spirit reminds,
Maranatha is my cry!
A calm, a peace
Comes like the dawn
Dispelling the darkness
The light is not overcome.
Even when I think the end is written
Maranatha still dances through my lips
And the eyes of my heart catch a glimpse
Of the promised resurrection.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
So with a hope set on Him
I fight, I grip, I dig, I grasp
Every ounce of faith within my soul
Every bit of it I have,
Even with war torn fatigues
And dirt in my nails
I fight for the joy set before me.
No eye has seen,
No ear has heard,
No sin has overcome me
Condemned is not my name.
Maranatha! Maranatha! Maranatha!
My heart swells with this refrain!
Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
