Woe is me. My corns are aching, my bunions are throbbing, my joints are paining me; oh, what to do. The world is tempting me, the devil is after me, and I’m at my wit’s end. If you’re a Christian, I’m sure that is not your attitude. Listen folks, “We’re Marching to Zion.” We have a joy that the world cannot understand, much less know. Put your aches and pains aside; leave your worries and fears behind and let your joys be known.
“Come, we that love the Lord, And let our joys be known,
Join in a song with sweet accord, Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne, And thus surround the throne.”
People of the world cannot sing the songs of Zion. They cannot know the joys and pleasures of the Lord unless they come to Him. The believer, however, can sing for they are children of the King. It was once said that when a person walked up a street in the United States they could point out the homes of the Methodists. The reason why was that there was always joyful singing coming from their houses. Today it is hard to tell “worldly” music from Christian.
“Let hose refuse to sing Who never knew our God;
But children of the heav’nly King, But children of the heav’nly King,
May speak their joys abroad, May speak their joys abroad.”
The promises of the Lord belong to His children. As we march toward Zion the blessings of the Lord are showered down. Before we reach that heavenly realm we are given a taste of glory as we continue to march.
“The hill of Zion yields, A thousand sacred sweets
Before we reach the heav’nly fields, Before we reach the heav’nly fields,
Or walk the golden streets, Or walk the golden streets.”
So instead of crying the blues and singing our woes, let the songs of Zion abound from our lips. Yeehaw! (That’s cowboy talk for “Hallelujah!”); we’re on the way and nothing will be able to stop us on our way. Keep the vision of the holy city in your mind as you traipse the hills of earth.
“Then let our songs abound, And every tear be dry;
We’re marching thro’ Immanuel’s ground, We’re marching thro’ Immanuel’s ground.
To fairer worlds on high, To fairer worlds on high.
We’re marching to Zion, Beautiful, beautiful Zion;
We’re marching upward to Zion, The beautiful city of God.”
Don’t despair, the road is not twisting downward. The travel is ever upward–hear ye, hear ye, we’re marching to Zion, the beautiful city of God.