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by Ronald Ferguson

At His feet, I know His peace.
At His feet, no mercies cease.
At His feet, I find true rest.
At His feet, this place, the best.

Mary knew that place so well.
Gratitude, her actions tell;
Her devotion clearly shown.
Love's warm tears was love she'd known.

Magi who had travelled far,
Who had tracked the Infant's star,
Stood before Him worshipping;
At His feet were honouring.

One cleansed leper at His feet
Freely worshipped there - so sweet.
He returned to give his thanks -
Joined the praising, thankful ranks.

Soldiers stood before His feet.
Thorny crown, this King to greet.
Mockery alone they bring,
Ignorant of Christ, the King.

John fell at His feet thought dead.
Majesty had caused such dread;
Much too great the glory seen -
Overpow'ring it had been.

All the glory His alone.
Worthy Lord, upon the throne!
Elders' crowns cast at His feet.
Honour, power - for Him, meet.

At His feet, no better place
To appreciate His grace!
At His feet, no better choice
Could be made where to rejoice!

Metre = 7-7-7-7

Copyright retained. Do not use in commercial publications without permission.

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