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| His Poema
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TRUMPETS CALL
I hear a trumpet sounding
It seems to be everywhere
I look up in the sky
See my Lord coming there
He is coming to claim His bride
Who has been awaiting His return
Coming to take her home
To the marriage supper of the Lamb
She is rising up to meet Him
Her face is all aglow
The garments on her back
Are as white as the snow
I look all around me
See the saints going home
There is going to be a wedding
The likes of we have never known
There will now be
No more pain or suffering
No more envy or strife
The Bridegroom has returned
He has put everything right
Myra Wood
02/09/01
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[Midi "Mist Covered Mountains" © Barry Taylor] |
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