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AT MOTHER'S PASSING



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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 blue 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.
Wes Stephenson

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