My talk with the Lord/messenger_clip@yahoo.com/revised September 7, 1999
Death
Death you are a strange, and mysterious thing,
you come in the winter, you come in the spring.
Each new child, you wind up like a clock,
then you wait patiently, for the time to stop.
We dread the sound, of the silence to come,
when the chimes on our clock, are no more to be rung.
The real sadness is, that so many cannot see,
there is one winding the clock, for you and for me.
The Master creator, counts the hours on the clock,
he knows when the time comes, on our doors to knock.
But it is through deaths door, we sinners have not yet seen,
which leads to paradise, and all that is clean.
The clock rings out in heaven, for all to hear,
saying this is a child of the Father, come draw him near.
That which we once feared, we now embrace,
for it is time to see, our Father's loving face.
If it weren't for death, where would we be,
remaining here on earth, and missing eternity.
Thank you Father, for Your great and glorious plan,
to remove this sinful little man, from this lowly earthly land.
So death where is thy victory, where is thy sting,
you only opened the door to heaven, where the bells and angels sing.
-
joe sizemore
September 2, 1999
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