The Gate The time will come one day When we can no longer stay. No one knows for sure How long we will endure. Our age does not count No matter the amount. Sickness is not the measure, Or any earthly treasure. Pain is not the cause Nor is men's applause. Each day is counted new With nothing we can do. That day will arrive Until then we will survive. We can't count on knowledge, Or the amount of college. No good can come from pride Nor taking long strides. The time is set in the book, But we can't take a look. It is written very clear The time could be near. God will choose the place When we will see His face. Only God knows just when The gate will open to let us in! Poem by: Lena Ayer Kittrell Web page designed by: Lena Ayer Kittrell Midi music "The Gathering Home" written by: Norma Stephenson Phone # (901) 372-8750 Music arranged by: Rhesa Siregar
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