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At Mother’s Passing

I found it hard to comprehend,
Despite all I’d been told,
How Heaven’s silver city gleams
With streets of shining gold;

Where mansions stand prepared for us,
Their marbled halls so bright;
Filled with endless songs of joy
By heavenly hosts in white.

And so the scriptures paint the scene,
A world of great appeal;
And, though I’ve never doubted this,
It somehow seemed surreal.

But such descriptions came to life
As more than just a tale
When Mother drew her final breath
And slipped beyond the veil.

I can see those streets of gold
And spires shining bright,
For anywhere our mother walks
Is filled with song and light.

Whereas, before, an angel’s face
Was hard to call to mind,
Her kind eyes and warming smile
Celestial life defines.

So praise the Lord’s compassioned plan,
Our hope is now secure;
The world to come is filled with joy,
For so was life with her.

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.



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