The Invisible Bride

 

The vast, invisible Church of Christ,

Born deep in that great, immortal mind,

Before the race of men on earth emerged,

In eternity were it's mighty pillars firmed.

The grand reward of the blood and tears, 

Which were Christ's during His earthly years,

Indeed this did His sorrowing heart inspire,

And lift His spirit in the last, dreadful mire.

As that broken body hung on the cross, 

Gasping under weight of man's sinful dross

T'was a vision of the Church, holy and new,

Which made His agonies sweet and true.

Though once was lowly and despised, 

For eternity will He in all glory abide,

Pleading for those who are His very own,

Before that sovereign, immutable throne.

For that glorious plan was forged in infinity,

Purposed in Christ to be fulfilled in eternity,

To call those who were lost beyond remedy,

And build them up into one perfect Body.

Thus from every nation, tongue and race,

Christ's remnant is summoned by name,

His little flock who faithfully hear His voice,

And cause their Good Shepherd to rejoice.

No strength of numbers or might has she,

No pomp or granduer for the world to see,

Scattered on earth without name or fame, 

The precious work of Christ her only claim.

No man-made creed does she praise or laud,

But across them all are her people found,

The seal of their salvation is from above,

Marked by the indwelling of the holy Dove.

In the famed Churches that proudly stand, 

Where evil deceptions hold full command,

Even there is the Spirit of Truth to be found,

Among a wise few whose hearts are sound.

Others there are who tread a lonely road, 

No fellowship have they in this earthly abode, 

But the divine counselor dwells in these souls, 

Not orphans here, for He their life upholds.

In nations where wicked dominions rule,

One must pay a price and be called a fool,

Here those who labour in suffering and strife,

For the sake of Christ lay down their life.

Of many such is built the unseen Church, 

In all their hearts the same spirit burns, 

Of pure truth and a living prayer of sacrifice,

As they strive to follow the feet of Christ.

Her faith is not in grand buildings of stone,

Nor in the traditions that men have sown,

But the Word of God alone she will trust,

Other claims of truth she knows are corrupt.

No fame or strength does she have to invoke,

Yet in her great weakness, lies her boast,

Thus not by might or power, but by my Spirit,

Says the Lord; For He heeds not worldly merit.

For when some of her people gather in love 

Earnestly to seek the face of their God above,

His heart is stirred to great mercy and favour,

So pours out His Spirit to grace their labour.

And when their cold spirits are thus revived,

By the divine flame of fire that makes alive, 

What glorious powers and wonders do betide,

To show men that God does with Her abide.

Thus Her outward self seems to waste away,

But quietly the work of Christ is underway, 

For her inner heart is renewed day-by-day, 

And nothing does Her eternal hope dismay.

Though ever the object of scorn and disdain, 

Mansions bright are above for her ordained,

For now Christ's sufferings she must share,

His wondrous glory for all eternity to wear.

Those of her body now know not each other, 

Scattered are they accross land and river,

But how great her joy will be when they meet,

And sing the triumphant song at Jesus' feet.

But greater still is the reward for Jesus' sight,

When He sees His holy Bride clothed in white,

And all His suffering made worth its while,

As His love walks down Jerusalem's aisle!