Tears On The Altar I love to return to view the pictures Of the saints kneeling down on the floor, And the sawdust clung to their clothing, And the altar was made of old boards. It’s a scene, which is sacred and holy, Created in the ancient of times, As they fervently cried out to Jesus, Their faith and their trust were sublime. And there they went to do battle, With forces in devilish décor, God listened to them up in Heaven, Broke satan’s chains and restored. Their tears softly fell on the altar, As they cried for humanity’s souls, They prayed long and loud in His presence, To the One whom they loved and adored. The prayers of the saints held me hostage, They effected a change in my life. I remember to the Throne they came boldly, For the enemy they came for a fight. A sister, a godly prayer warrior, One knew to respect her bold stand, For there was a power in her praying, Surely, devils trembled and ran! And when they had finished, which seemed long, They arose and wiped tears from their eyes, They patted and hugged one another, And the true bond of love stronger tied. Although but a child half sleeping, On a crudely old fashioned pew, I absorbed those intimate moments, When the saints knelt there in my view. And my childish evaluations, Of that precious Holy Place, Was that God has many listening ears, For the saints who sought His face. They left their tears on the altar, With a Faith and Trust level high, And a love penetrated that setting, That shall live in my heart ‘til I die. It’s refreshing to think of that picture, God’s children have all said “goodbye.” But the scene is alive in my memory, Of the saints who prayed and they cried. Yes, they left their tears on the altar, A sweet sacrifice of pure love. For the souls of lost men so precious, Now united with Jesus above. A scene still vibrates with passion. A place where the battle is men. And we too must walk in their footsteps, To unleash the captives of sin. Will now there be tears on our altars From this new generation of saints? Will we cry with the same kind of passion For the souls which satan has claimed? Unless we do battle with satan, And boldly attack his fierce game, There will be many souls lost and dying, In a dark harvest field that is unclaimed. Maxine Tolbert Trigleth