073025 THE CHRISTIANS ARE GONE

THE CHRISTIANS ARE GONE
THE CHRISTIANS ARE GONE
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“For the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout...”
—1 Thessalonians 4:16

The Lord arose with trumpet sound,
And saints were lifted from the ground.
From every tribe, in every tongue,
The shout of God, the call was rung.

In America, no churchbell tolled—
The preachers, gone, their pulpits cold.
The faithful vanished in the night,
Left cities lost without their light.

In England, voices ceased to sing
Their hymns of Zion to the King.
Though spires still rise o’er village green,
The Bride of Christ is nowhere seen.

From China’s underground and flame,
Believers rose in Jesus’ name.
Through silenced lips and secret grace,
They’re now before the Savior’s face.

Nigeria, ablaze with prayer,
Now wonders why none gather there.
The watchmen fled without a trace,
Carried to the throne of grace.

Brazil, with joy and passion deep,
Awoke to weep but could not reap.
For those who danced in Christ are gone—
Their worship now before His throne.

In Ethiopia, hills stood still,
The faithful gone from every hill.
Their fasting cries are heard no more—
They’ve risen to the golden shore.

In Thailand, silent shrines now shake,
For those who followed Christ awake.
No longer bound to earth or fear,
The chosen few have disappeared.

From Pakistan, where brave hearts prayed,
The saints by grace have been conveyed.
Though once despised and under threat,
They're gone, and God is not forget.

In Germany, where minds once reigned,
The ones reborn are now unchained.
The quiet few who knew the cross
Have flown beyond all earthly loss.

In India, from slum and street,
They’ve flown where saints and angels meet.
Though temples rise to gods of clay,
The Living God has called His way.

South Korea, lit with fire,
Once burned with gospel-born desire.
Now churches stand in ghostly peace—
The faithful gone, their labors ceased.

In Russia, far beyond the frost,
The Spirit-filled are counted lost.
But not to death or grave or sword—
They've gone alive to meet the Lord.

Iran, where saints would die to speak,
Has lost the humble and the meek.
Those jailed for Christ now roam the skies,
Their chains exchanged for paradise.

And Australia, from coast to coast,
Has lost its kind, its quiet host.
The ones who shared, who served, who prayed—
By heaven's hand were gently swayed.

Oh nations, tremble, see the sign:
The righteous gone by hand divine.
The harvest reaped, the fields now bare—
And Christ the Judge no longer spares.

Now unbelievers bite their tongue,
Philosophers unsing their song.
For Christ is proven, loud and plain—
The missing Church, the Lamb once slain.

The salt is gone, the light withdrawn,
The world awakes to cursed dawn.
And all who mocked now stand and see
The Rapture's truth: Christ is the key.

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