In Heaven, Your Tears Have No Flavor
Heal the stings of your foe,
With forgiveness and love;
For which men shall woe,
From the King up above!
Wails of grief shall not be part,
When one feels the smite;
From death you can't depart,
Leave your heart contrite!
In heaven, the saints reside
Where your tears have no flavor,
Then, whom you shall abide?
Be steadfast, in your fervor!
Let your tears not fall,
As you sleep tonight;
And, don't forget to call
For He'll listen, with delight!
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