Music

God’s Spirit descended upon me again.
This time, I was carried into the future,
to Temple Mount in Jerusalem.

Before me stood the Dome of the Rock.
The Holy Shekinah descended.
The rock beneath the Dome split in two,
And the waters came gushing out.
With such force the waters poured,
The shrine above was destroyed.
Then slightly north and east on the Mount,
The Holy Presence moved and stood.

Then the Spirit led me to Zechariah:
“Living waters shall go out from Jerusalem…
in summer and in winter shall it be.”

I had seen the rock at Horeb,
Moses strike, the waters flow.
Now I learned why I had seen it,
What that ancient sign would show.
The rock was split in the wilderness;
The rock was split before me now.
I had been allowed to witness both,
To testify of what I saw.

The Holy Presence of God,
Returning as He said.
The glory that once filled His house
Upon the Mount again.

I saw some weep and mourn before it;
Elsewhere, there was gnashing of teeth.
Those who could endure the Presence
Looked into the glory there.
They saw a figure in the Shekinah,
And knew that it was Jesus Christ.

Reporters asked the people
what they had experienced.
Again and again, the answer came:
“It’s the Holy Presence of God;
only the holy can look into it.”

I saw the souls of men and women
Like streams of light come pouring in.
By foot, by boat, by plane they traveled,
Any way that they could come.
Their hearts were filled with expectation
Of our Lord triumphant there.
The ransomed coming home to Zion,
With songs and everlasting joy.

The Holy Presence of God,
Returning as He said.
The glory that once filled His house
Upon the Mount again.

The vision of the future closed.
Then our Lord turned to me and said:
“There will be many questions about this event.
I need you to prepare the hearts and the minds
of the people for it.”

Prepare their hearts.
Prepare their minds.
For the Holy Presence of God.

Then He said:
“You are now ready to learn
the meaning of the number eleven eleven.”

A number on the glowing screen,
A question through the years;
A promise on an ancient page
Brought what was far-off near.
Not a date to mark upon the wall,
Not an hour that I could name—
Isaiah held the words I sought:
His hand would reach again.

He sets His hand again,
He gathers in His own;
From the lands where they were scattered,
He calls the remnant home.
His word outlives the waiting;
His mercy does not end.
The God who made the covenant
Now sets His hand again.

An ensign for the nations,
A summons heard afar;
The outcasts and the scattered ones
Remembered where they are.
Let Judah cease from vexing,
Let Ephraim’s envy end;
The hands that once were turned away
Can reach as kin again.

He sets His hand again,
He gathers in His own;
From the lands where they were scattered,
He calls the remnant home.
His word outlives the waiting;
His mercy does not end.
The God who made the covenant
Now sets His hand again.

Once they told of Egypt,
Of deliverance from that land;
Now they’ll tell of gathering
By the same redeeming hand.
He remembers what was spoken;
He remembers every name.
The One who led their fathers
Is reaching out again.

He sets His hand again,
He gathers in His own;
From the lands where they were scattered,
He calls the remnant home.
His word outlives the waiting;
His mercy does not end.
The God who made the covenant
Now sets His hand again.

Not forgotten.
Not forsaken.
He calls His people home.

The question is not only,
“Will His glory come?”
Malachi asks:
“Who shall stand when he appeareth?”

I have read of cloud and fire,
Of the glory in His house,
How the priests could not minister
When the holy cloud came down.
Now I ask to see the Shekinah,
But the question turns to me:
Will I bring a heart made ready,
Or the things I will not leave?

Who can stand before the fire?
Who can bear the Holy One?
When the light reveals the heart,
What becomes of what I’ve done?
Let the question reach me now,
Before that holy day:
What am I still holding
That the fire will burn away?

Did I leave the widow waiting?
Did I turn the stranger back?
Did I keep the worker’s wages
While I spoke of all I lacked?
Was I faithful to my promise?
Did I live the truth I claimed?
Let me face what needs repenting
While there still is time to change.

Who can stand before the fire?
Who can bear the Holy One?
When the light reveals the heart,
What becomes of what I’ve done?
Let the question reach me now,
Before that holy day:
What am I still holding
That the fire will burn away?

He shall sit as a refiner,
Purifying silver, gold,
Till the sons of Levi bring Him
Righteous offerings as of old.
Every mask will lose its meaning;
Every hidden thing be known.
Let Your Spirit burn within me;
Let Your Word become my own.

Who can stand before the fire?
Who can bear the Holy One?
When the light reveals the heart,
What becomes of what I’ve done?
Let the question reach me now,
Before that holy day:
What am I still holding
That the fire will burn away?

Can this heart of mine be cleansed?
Can I stand before that flame?

Do not hide the darker pages;
Do not make my failures small.
Let the record tell the whole truth;
Let it speak of rise and fall.
Neither songs nor royal splendor
Could undo the wrong I’d done;
So I came without defending
What my life had now become.

If He could forgive me
When I turned and faced my sin,
Do not call your story finished;
Turn to Him and live again.
Bring the wrong you cannot bury,
Bring the shame you cannot mend.
There is mercy for the broken—
Turn to Him, and start again.

You may know the shepherd’s music;
You may know the giant fell.
There are reasons in the record
For the things I’d rather veil.
But the mercy I was given
Was not mine to hide away;
What He did when I returned to Him
Is the hope I bring today.

If He could forgive me
When I turned and faced my sin,
Do not call your story finished;
Turn to Him and live again.
Bring the wrong you cannot bury,
Bring the shame you cannot mend.
There is mercy for the broken—
Turn to Him, and start again.

Do not call the darkness holy;
Do not dress the wrong as right.
Bring the heart that hides no longer
To the One who brings the light.
In the Psalms you hear me weeping;
Hear thanksgiving rising too.
His Son has died for all of us—
That mercy reaches you.

If He could forgive me,
There is mercy still for you.
Let repentance be your turning;
Let Him make your spirit new.
Do not hide the darker pages;
Let them show what He can do.
If the Lord could pardon David,
There is mercy still for you.

In the house of Potiphar,
A stranger far from home,
I would not yield to what was wrong,
Though I stood there alone.
His wife had cornered me that night;
I fled outside and ran.
Along the northern edge of town,
My journey east began.

As day broke on the desert,
I turned beside a hill.
The land beyond lay open wide;
I stood alone and still.
I reached for God, and He was there—
Our Lord had come to me.
He comforted my troubled heart,
Then showed what I would be.

Before the prison door,
You met me on the way.
You gave my heart a promise
That the walls could not take away.
You showed me life beyond those walls;
You gave me strength for more.
Your promise reached me first,
Before the prison door.

The prison days came after,
But the vision still remained.
I drew my strength from what I’d seen;
His promise had not changed.

Before the prison door,
You met me on the way.
You gave my heart a promise
That the walls could not take away.
You showed me life beyond those walls;
You gave me strength for more.
Your promise reached me first,
Before the prison door.

And when the famine reached the land,
The storehouse doors swung wide.
From many countries people came
To find the bread inside.
The hope that once sustained one life
Had led to bread for more;
And I remembered where it came—
Before the prison door.

Before the prison door,
You met me on the way.
You gave my heart a promise
That the walls could not take away.
You showed me life beyond those walls;
You gave me strength for more.
Your promise reached me first,
Before the prison door.

You gave me hope to carry,
Before the prison door.

I was waiting for my daughter
outside the Department of Motor Vehicles,
reading Professor Kaufman’s book.
A security officer noticed it—
an Assyrian who grew up in Nazareth.
He showed me a passage from Isaiah.

I had read Isaiah’s pages,
Yet these words surprised me there.
My thoughts were on Jerusalem;
Egypt, too, was in His care.
I had not seen the whole horizon
Of the promises He made.
A stranger drew my eyes to words
That would not pass away.

Blessed be Egypt My people,
And Assyria the work of My hands,
And Israel Mine inheritance—
A blessing in the midst of the land.
The Lord of hosts has spoken;
His promise still shall stand.
Egypt, Assyria, Israel—
A blessing in the midst of the land.

From Egypt to Assyria,
There shall be a holy way;
People going, people coming,
Learning how to serve and pray.
The Egyptians and Assyrians
Shall together serve the Lord;
And the ransomed come to Zion,
With the joy the prophet saw.

Blessed be Egypt My people,
And Assyria the work of My hands,
And Israel Mine inheritance—
A blessing in the midst of the land.
The Lord of hosts has spoken;
His promise still shall stand.
Egypt, Assyria, Israel—
A blessing in the midst of the land.

Upon a swift cloud comes the Lord;
The idols shake before Him.
He hears the cry beneath oppression
And sends a savior to deliver.
He shall smite and He shall heal them;
They shall turn to Him again.
And an altar there in Egypt
Shall bear witness to His name.

Blessed be Egypt My people,
And Assyria the work of My hands,
And Israel Mine inheritance—
A blessing in the midst of the land.
The Lord of hosts has spoken;
His promise still shall stand.
Egypt, Assyria, Israel—
A blessing in the midst of the land.

Egypt, My people.
Assyria, the work of My hands.
Israel, Mine inheritance.

Professor Asher Kaufman searched for the place
where the Holy of Holies had stood.
He measured, studied, and prayed.

He studied maps and ancient words,
The landmarks on the Mount;
He brought his questions back again
To every old account.
Where had the Holy of Holies stood?
That question would not fade.
He gave the work his searching mind,
And bowed his head and prayed.

Let our eyes behold
Your return in mercy to Zion.
Let our eyes behold
The glory of Your dwelling place.
Through the searching, through the waiting,
Let us seek Your face.

His daughter Rachel loved to read
The prophets day by day.
Her parents kept that practice
When she had passed away.
They read in memory of her,
And in Ezekiel found
The verse that linked the Temple’s line
With landmarks on the ground.

The winter wind blew from the west;
He faced the Golden Gate.
A little dome beyond it stood;
He marked the line it made.
Before the sun had left the sky,
He paused upon that height,
And prayed for God’s return to Zion
In the fading light.

Let our eyes behold
Your return in mercy to Zion.
Let our eyes behold
The glory of Your dwelling place.
Through the searching, through the waiting,
Let us seek Your face.

That evening, he found its name:
the Dome of the Spirits.
A book described its pillars,
set directly on smoothed bedrock.
He wrote, “I literally jumped from my chair.”
His research placed the Holy of Holies
beneath that little dome.

Let our eyes behold
Your return in mercy to Zion.
Let our eyes behold
The glory of Your dwelling place.
Through the searching, through the waiting,
Let us seek Your face.

He left a trail of pages;
I was called to make them known.
Let our eyes behold
Your return in mercy to Zion.

Our Lord brought me outside the Eastern Gate.
He pointed toward the platform and said:
“This is where My Shekinah dwelt in former times
when My House became defiled
and where it will come and stand before I return.”

He showed me where the glory stood
Outside His house of prayer.
And when His people would not turn,
The Presence left them there.
Out through the gate’s south arch it passed,
Across the valley floor;
Then up upon the Mount of Olives,
He looked on them once more.

One last look at Jerusalem,
One last look before He left.
Upon the Mount of Olives,
I saw our Lord—and He wept.
The One whose glory filled the house
Was grieving as He went.

Then I understood the tears
That Luke had written down:
When Jesus neared Jerusalem
And looked upon the town.
Upon that same Mount of Olives,
The memory came again.
He wept for those who had not known
The things that made for peace.

“If thou hadst known, even thou,
at least in this thy day,
the things which belong unto thy peace!”

One last look at Jerusalem,
One last look before He left.
Upon the Mount of Olives,
I saw our Lord—and He wept.
The One whose glory filled the house
Was grieving as He went.

He went into the Temple
And drove the sellers out.
“My house is the house of prayer,”
He said before the crowd.
And in that place He taught each day,
Still calling them to hear.

He told me He had passed through the southern arch
and would return through the northern.

One last look at Jerusalem—
But His promise still remained.
The place that saw His glory leave
Would see His Presence come again.
The One whose glory filled the house
Had not forgotten her.

And when I think upon His coming,
I remember His tears.

At the Eastern Gate, I was shown two men.
At first, I did not know who they were.

Beside a little room he stood;
The people came and went.
He stepped into its shade again
When each exchange would end.
Beyond a little garden,
Another man stood near;
I watched him come to comfort
The elder standing there.

The next morning, I was told
that the older man was Zerubbabel.
I learned the younger was Joshua, the high priest.
They had come to rebuild the Temple.

Begin among the ruins;
Let worship lead the way.
Before we lift another stone,
We turn to You and pray.
You stirred the hearts within us;
Now guide our willing hands.
Begin among the ruins,
Where Your holy mountain stands.

The land they found lay desolate;
Where could the work begin?
They came to honor God there first,
With offerings brought to Him.
The Mount was still His holy place,
Though ruin lay around.
They did not wait for walls to rise
To worship on that ground.

Begin among the ruins;
Let worship lead the way.
Before we lift another stone,
We turn to You and pray.
You stirred the hearts within us;
Now guide our willing hands.
Begin among the ruins,
Where Your holy mountain stands.

The workers lifted up their eyes
Toward the highest wall.
A holy purpose filled their work
And held the hearts of all.
The prophet and the priest were near,
The holy hill in view;
And what their willing hands rebuilt
Was worship offered too.

The names of Solomon and Herod
Have been remembered through the years;
But there were others in the ruins
Whose work the Lord held dear.
He was with them in their labor;
His Shekinah graced that house.
Let the names of those who built it
Be remembered in our songs.

Begin among the ruins;
Let worship lead the way.
Before we lift another stone,
We turn to You and pray.
You stirred the hearts within us;
Now guide our willing hands.
Begin among the ruins,
Where Your holy mountain stands.

Zerubbabel and Joshua—
Let their work be known.
They honored God among the ruins,
Before the walls were whole.

On the Mount of Olives,
I saw the Shekinah through the trees.
I went through an open gate
And found the graves of forty-eight.

The names and ages on the stones
Brought questions to my mind.
I followed back their story
To the place they’d left behind.
Before I reached the monument,
I saw the light ahead—
The Shekinah at the place
Where they had laid the dead.

In all their affliction,
He was afflicted too.
The grief that filled Jerusalem
Was grief the Savior knew.
He received the fallen to Himself;
He comforted those who mourned.
His Presence bore witness:
They had not been alone.

The siege had closed the passage out;
They laid the fallen here.
A temporary place of rest
Would hold them nineteen years.
At last they bore them to the Mount,
With stones to bear their names.
Yet in that first, small burial place,
The holy Presence stayed.

In all their affliction,
He was afflicted too.
The grief that filled Jerusalem
Was grief the Savior knew.
He received the fallen to Himself;
He comforted those who mourned.
His Presence bore witness:
They had not been alone.

Esther wrote to her family:
“Be happy and remember me with joy.”

Let us speak their names with kindness;
Let their letters still be heard.
Let us leave a little silence
After every tender word.
Not a sorrow left unnoticed,
Not a life beyond His care.
Let the living learn to be still
And remember He was there.

In all their affliction,
He was afflicted too.
The grief that filled Jerusalem
Was grief the Savior knew.
He received the fallen to Himself;
He comforted those who mourned.
His Presence bore witness:
They had not been alone.

His Presence bore witness:
They had not been alone.

Zechariah wrote of ten men
From the languages of the nations,
Taking hold of the garment of a Jew,
And saying:

We will go with you,
For we have heard that God is with you.
We will go with you,
To seek the Lord and pray.
Let us go up to His mountain;
Let Him teach us what is true.
With the ransomed coming home to Zion,
We will go with you.

One city calls another,
“Come and seek the Lord in prayer.”
From Jerusalem the tidings
Reach the people everywhere.
By foot, by boat, by plane they come,
From lands both near and far;
The outcasts and the scattered ones
Come seeking Israel’s God.

We will go with you,
For we have heard that God is with you.
We will go with you,
To seek the Lord and pray.
Let us go up to His mountain;
Let Him teach us what is true.
With the ransomed coming home to Zion,
We will go with you.

Near the Tower of David,
We will listen, we will learn.
Let the truth we hear together
Help our hearts begin to turn.
He will teach us of His pathways;
We will learn to walk in them.
The word of God goes out from Zion,
From His own Jerusalem.

The ransomed come with singing,
With joy upon their heads;
Their sorrow and their sighing flee
Along the way the redeemed shall tread.

We will go with you,
For we have heard that God is with you.
We will go with you,
To seek the Lord and pray.
Let us go up to His mountain;
Let Him teach us what is true.
With the ransomed coming home to Zion,
We will go with you.

I will go also.

We will go with you.

I have spoken of Your coming;
I have taught what I believed.
I have warned of false appearances,
Of the ways we are deceived.
But if Your Shekinah stands before me
In a way I did not see,
Will I bow before Your Presence,
Or defend my certainty?

Teach me to love the truth
More than being seen as right.
Let me bring my own conclusions
Out into Your searching light.
Let me lose the need for honor,
Not the will to follow You.
More than being right before the people,
Let me be made right with You.

There are people who have listened;
There are hearts that trust my name.
Would I lead them from Your Presence
Just to spare myself the shame?
Let me open what is written
With a heart prepared to learn.
Let me hear before dismissing;
Give me courage now to turn.

Teach me to love the truth
More than being seen as right.
Let me bring my own conclusions
Out into Your searching light.
Let me lose the need for honor,
Not the will to follow You.
More than being right before the people,
Let me be made right with You.

Let me test what I am hearing;
Let me search Your Word and pray.
But don’t let pride in what I’ve taught
Become the reason I turn away.
Let no self take up Your dwelling;
Let no pride usurp Your throne.
Let the heart that is Your temple
Be surrendered, Yours alone.

Teach me to love the truth
More than being seen as right.
I will bring my own conclusions
Out into Your searching light.
Let me lose the need for honor,
Not the will to follow You.
More than being right before the people,
Let me be made right with You.

Correct me, Lord.
Let me love the truth.

Isaiah spoke of the suffering Servant.
The Psalms spoke of the rejected stone.
The prophets gave us words
By which to recognize Him.

From Bethlehem, from David’s line,
The promised One would come;
A light to reach the nations,
God’s own beloved Son.
His works would speak of healing,
His words would bring release;
The Scriptures named Him Counselor,
And called Him Prince of Peace.

The One the prophets spoke of,
The One who bore our shame,
Is not a stranger in the glory—
Jesus is His name.
The Servant who was pierced for us,
The Lamb who rose again,
Is not a stranger in the glory—
Jesus is His name.

For thirty silver pieces,
He was betrayed and sold;
Rejected by the builders,
As Scripture had foretold.
The Servant bore our sorrows,
Our sin became His load;
A willing Lamb, our sacrifice,
Who brings us back to God.

The One the prophets spoke of,
The One who bore our shame,
Is not a stranger in the glory—
Jesus is His name.
The Servant who was pierced for us,
The Lamb who rose again,
Is not a stranger in the glory—
Jesus is His name.

The grave did not retain Him;
The Holy One arose.
The stone the builders cast aside
Became the cornerstone.
The One we read of in the Scriptures
Is the One within the flame.

The One the prophets spoke of,
The One who bore our shame,
Is not a stranger in the glory—
Jesus is His name.
The Servant who was pierced for us,
The Lamb who rose again,
Is not a stranger in the glory—
Jesus is His name.

Not a stranger in the glory.
Jesus is His name.

Before I step into the water,
Before I climb the hill,
There are wrongs I need to turn from;
There are debts remaining still.
Before I ask to see Your glory,
Search the life I bring to You.
Let the turning in my spirit
Show in everything I do.

Clean hands and a pure heart,
Not a face I show the crowd;
Truth within my inmost being,
Not a prayer that’s only loud.
Mercy for the stranger,
Justice in the things I do—
Before I ask to see Your glory,
Make my life more true to You.

Water cannot keep my promise
To the worker I have wronged,
Nor return the bread withheld from
Those I’ve passed by for so long.
Let me pay the wage I owe him;
Let the hungry share my bread.
Let the change I sing before You
Show in how I live instead.

Clean hands and a pure heart,
Not a face I show the crowd;
Truth within my inmost being,
Not a prayer that’s only loud.
Mercy for the stranger,
Justice in the things I do—
Before I ask to see Your glory,
Make my life more true to You.

You abundantly will pardon
Those who turn and seek Your face.
I cannot purchase pardon;
I can answer to Your grace.
Take away my heart’s pretensions;
Teach me how to walk in truth—
Not a pilgrim seeking wonder,
But a soul made new by You.

Before I climb Your mountain,
Let repentance change my way.
Clean hands, a pure heart—
This is what I ask today.

I was warned to prepare believers in Jerusalem.
I feared for the Christian Quarter.
I was not shown the outcome.

Let us know who’s walking with us;
Let us learn each other’s names.
Let us know who needs assistance
When the road ahead has changed.
Keep our fellowship from breaking
When the weight is hard to bear.
Let the one who stands beside us
Find a faithful neighbor there.

Faithful when the world resists,
Keep us faithful, keep us near.
Let us hold to You together;
Let love be stronger than our fear.
Give us strength to help each other;
Give us wisdom for the day.
Faithful when the world resists,
Teach us how to watch and pray.

When the help we hoped for tarries,
Do not let us turn to blame.
Let us care for those who tremble;
Let us call upon Your name.
You have not revealed the ending
Or the length of what we face;
We will not abandon others
While we wait upon Your grace.

Faithful when the world resists,
Keep us faithful, keep us near.
Let us hold to You together;
Let love be stronger than our fear.
Give us strength to help each other;
Give us wisdom for the day.
Faithful when the world resists,
Teach us how to watch and pray.

We cannot command the hour;
We cannot demand the way.
You may give more time for turning
To the ones who rage today.
Some may die while bearing witness;
You alone know every soul.
Keep us merciful and watchful;
Keep us faithful through it all.

Faithful when the world resists,
Keep us faithful, keep us near.
Let us hold to You together;
Let love be stronger than our fear.
Give us strength to help each other;
Give us wisdom for the day.
Faithful when the world resists,
Teach us how to watch and pray.

Where we cannot see the ending,
Let us still be true to You.

A horn can speak of power,
Of a voice, a people, a holy place.
Now the question is:
What do we do with what we have received?

He has chosen Zion for His rest,
The place where He would dwell;
His poor shall eat and be supplied,
His saints their joy shall tell.
From David’s house, a Horn is raised—
Salvation from the Lord.
The God who made the covenant
Remembers every word.

Horn of God, let the good news sound:
Our God reigns! Our God reigns!
Let the voice of peace go out;
Let the ruined places sing.
Publish peace, proclaim salvation,
Till the farthest lands have heard.
Let the people You have gathered
Be the servants of Your Word.

O house of Judah, Israel,
Let your hands be strong.
You shall yet become a blessing—
Let that promise be your song.
Those who came to learn His pathways
Now have words of peace to share;
As the ministers of God,
They will take them everywhere.

Horn of God, let the good news sound:
Our God reigns! Our God reigns!
Let the voice of peace go out;
Let the ruined places sing.
Publish peace, proclaim salvation,
Till the farthest lands have heard.
Let the people You have gathered
Be the servants of Your Word.

Rebuild the former desolations;
Let the ruined cities rise.
Let the work of many generations
Live again before our eyes.

And the promise reaches further:
David will return to reign during the Millennium
And build the Holy Temple on Temple Mount.

Horn of God, let the good news sound:
Our God reigns! Our God reigns!
Let the voice of peace go out;
Let the ruined places sing.
Publish peace, proclaim salvation,
Till the farthest lands have heard.
Let the people You have gathered
Be the servants of Your Word.

He sets His hand again.
He gathers in His own.
The God who made the covenant
Now calls His people home.

God is real.
God keeps His promises.
God is merciful.
God is just.