Patmos holds the exiled witness, but the Spirit opens heaven’s sound. A trumpet voice commands the vision to be written and sent around. Seven golden candlesticks burn while the Son of man walks between. White as snow his head is shining; fire is living in his eyes. Among the Seven Golden Candlesticks Let every ear receive what heaven has spoken. The hour is near; let every heart awake. Glory and dominion rise unto the coming King. Brass like furnace flame beneath him, many waters in his voice. Seven stars rest in his right hand; truth goes forth a two-edged sword. The testimony stands when generations pass. What God has opened no darkness can erase. John falls down as one already dead beneath the noonday face. The Living One says not to fear; he holds death and hell’s keys. Among the Seven Golden Candlesticks Let every ear receive what heaven has spoken. The hour is near; let every heart awake. Glory and dominion rise unto the coming King. Among the Seven Golden Candlesticks