In my risen Lord I am born into |a living hope,| a hope not only vital, but vitalizing, sending its mystic, vivifying influences through every highway and by-way of my soul.

In my risen Lord mine is |an inheritance incorruptible.| It is not exposed to the gnawing tooth of time. Moth and rust can not impair the treasure. It will not grow less as I grow old. Its glories are as invulnerable as my Lord.

In my risen Lord mine is |an inheritance ... undefiled.| There is no alloy in the fine gold. The King will give me of His best. |Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him.| The holiest ideal proclaims my possibility, and foretells my ultimate attainment. Heaven's wine is not to be mixed with water. I am to awake |in His likeness.|

And mine is |an inheritance ... that fadeth not away.| It shall not be as the garlands offered by men -- green to-day and to-morrow sere and yellow. |Its leaf also shall not wither.| It shall always retain its freshness, and shall offer me a continually fresh delight. And these are all mine in Him!

|Thou, O Christ, art all I want.|