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Five years...

A spring morning. The wisteria blooms.

Life is flowering. Nature praises her God.

The grass is soft, the trees are bright.

And the hearld of death stands in the sun and calls.



And the prophet's words are true again:

"A voice is heard in Ramah

   weeping and great mourning.

Rachel weeping for her children

   and refusing to be comforted

Because they are no more."



What did you see when you crossed the gulf?

Do you now sing to the Most High as the morning stars once did?

Do you join flaming tounges in shouts of praise?

Has Christ wiped the tears from your eyes?



Who calls time and sends it where he wills?

Who speaks the name of each day and commands it's graces?

Where is the balm of Gilead to heal a cursed wound?

Where is the love of life?



The light of life slipped from your eyes.

You awoke into a different world.

The angels carried you into the mists

And across the gulf.



Did you see the white shores?

Do you see the eternal morning?

Do you feel the unwaning spring?

Do you bathe in the glory of Jehovah?



Still we miss you.

Some of us have tried to follow.

But the hearld has yet to call.

"Oh death, where is thy sting?

Oh grave, where is thy victory?"



Five years it has been...

But a blessed eternity awaits