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by Ronald Ferguson © 1999

Count it all joy, my brethren, when
You face a multitude of trials.
Your faith will prove the testing ground;
In Christ will you be firmly found,
And gained endurance, on you smiles.

We all lack wisdom's bless├ęd touch
In certain aspects of our ways.
Steadfast in faith, then let us ask
Of God, but not with doubting mask.
Without reproach, each plea repays.

The man of humble circumstance
May glory in the state he's in -
For elevated is that place.
But let the rich man then embrace
Humiliation's glory - win.

The man is blessed who perseveres,
When under trial, himself he knows.
Such character by God approved.
If from his faith, the man's not moved,
A crown of life, His Lord bestows.

Temptation comes when man is caught,
Enticed by his own lustful heart.
Then lust conceived, gives birth to sin,
Where only death can that one win,
So keep your life for God, apart.

Now, every perfect gift bestowed,
And every good thing's, from above.
Our Father dwelling in the light,
Where shifting shadow has no sight,
Has brought us forth in His true love.

Let each of you be quick to hear,
But slow to anger and to speak.
Then put aside all filthiness
And all remaining wickedness,
God's word receive then, you the meek.

But prove yourselves the doers of
The word, not merely those who hear.
For they delude themselves, you know,
As those who mirror-look and go
Away, forgetting what was near.

Unbridled tongues deceive one's heart;
Religion - worthless - it reveals.
What's undefiled, and pure, then seek -
The widows, orphans - help the weak,
And keep unstained by this world's deals.

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