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Heaven is Mine Heaven is closer each breath that I take, And when my breath stops, in Heaven I'll awake. No long time of waiting, just leave here and go there. One moment from here I'll not have a care. What's Heaven like? I don't really know, But my Savior is there and I want to go. The greatest and best things here on this earth, Will seem small and useless when we see Heaven's worth. Rejoicing and singing and I'm finally on key, Some of Heaven's best singers will be you and me. We'll praise our Savior for giving us life, And letting us dwell there with no turmoil or strife. What is my secret to gaining Heaven's shore? It's depending on Jesus and not me anymore. It's nothing I earn or buy or trade for, Only faith in my Savior will open that door. Can I brag because of the faith that is mine? Of course not, it's a gift from my God divine. He provided salvation and gave me the faith to believe it, And Heaven is mine because He led me to receive it. © Bob Hefner E-Mail     |     Site

Mamma's Bible There’s a book ‘pon my table, pages old, tattered and torn. It was left to me by my mother, all the pages quite, well worn. She sat and read it nightly, as we all gathered ‘round to hear. She told us to love our Jesus, He would come and hold us near. Daddy loved to listen, would set us ‘round about the wooden stove, As mama read all the stories that Jesus and His disciples, wondrously wove. She’d mark the page in passage, folding a corner for me to read. This, I think is so wonderful, the way mama sowed her seed. The old Bible is slightly faded, but it’s worth more than silver or gold. In all the beautiful passages, the words of our Savior are told. She would say, "Come harken to the Master; He is the light and way". Therefore, In my mind and heart, I must read her Bible every day. I know she’s now there with Him, glorying in His wondrous love, Today is her birthday; I know she’s having the party, of parties up above. She knew where she would go, before He called her away, there. ‘Cause I’d watch her reading her Bible and bend her head in Prayer. So, mamas’ Bible comes in handy, when I need to read of His sweet word. It’s like she often told me, it’s the sweetest story, ever to be heard. I’ll not let dust rest upon it, I’ll carefully wipe and read it every day, And, in my Prayers, thank her, for leaving this grand old book to me this way. © Pearlie Duncan Walker E-Mail     |     Site

Her Baby She sits there humming a nursery rhyme, To an infant wrapped in a blanket of blue. Holding it close to her heart as she sings, Just the way I remember she used to do. She recites bible verses without mistakes, Gently rocking in an old wooden chair. There's no twinkle in her elderly eyes, No color left in her pinned up hair. Once she chased butterflies in a meadow, Dipped her toes in a cool farm lake. She had dreams and plans for the future, So many trips left to take. Now she sits in a nursing home quietly, Not really aware of the world outside. She cried to hold her infant in her arms again, So they gave her a doll and they lied. She had been a mother to six healthy children, A mother filled with love and pride. They miss the woman that she used to be, The woman still trapped somewhere inside. Humming so softly, stroking lifeless hair, Reliving the best moments of her life right there. Having a baby to hold onto let her dream, Of days when there was love and laughter to share. © Dianna E-Mail     |     Site

Abide, Absorb, Apply With eyes closed And bowed head, We bathe our morning In God’s word. Like our pre-dawn shower, His word cleanses our body, And mind, And soul. We must absorb, Take in His Holy Pages; Consume, swallow-up Till only Him, our heart rages. We must abide, Obey, and endure His love; Accept, and remain, and Dwell in all He’s made of. We must apply, Petition, and employ His law; Utilize daily, administer lovingly, And put into operation so we won’t fall. For in so doing, Starting our day out with Him, We see His compassions are many, And our future is not dim. © Carol D. Meeks E-Mail     |     Site

The Flower Lady The flower lady came by our house While snow was on the ground. Sunshine filled the dreary room, When her ware's she brought around. Some were made of paper, Some were made of silk. All were made with love and care, None would ever wilt. Lilac's, Roses, Gardenia's and Mums, Mama always bought a few. Imagined fragrance perfumed the air, Just as fresh flowers do. Her age made no impression on me, I was, after all, a child. A face, I recall, thinly lined, A disposition sweet and mild. She carried her brillant riches In two brown shopping bags. Her tattered old, gray, woolen coat Flapped in the breeze like flags. Her flowers preserved the glories of spring, While the gardens lay in frost. The lasting joy these treasures brought, Were worth a ransom's cost. The flower lady, I never knew her name, For years, each winter, came by. But then one winter, she came no more. My Dad sadly said, "people die." The flower lady lives in my childhood days. I recall her each time I see, A paper rose or a lilac of silk, Their perfume engulfing me. © Shirley Lange E-Mail     |     Site

The Simplicity of Jesus He lived the life of a simple man While traveling here, on earth. He taught about the baptism Of the Holy Spirit and your rebirth. He healed the lame, sought the lost, And changed the woman at the well. He, also, taught there's a heaven And there's a hell. He healed the leper and Cast out all that was unclean. He left us His word and put it in our Holy Bible For us to learn and, on it, to always lean. He taught us to give alms to the poor And it's better to give then to receive. On His faith and trust you can stand And, in Him, forever to believe. He taught us to pray to our Father, "Hallowed be Thy Name." For, on this earth, He came to give; Never to recognize fortune or fame. He lived the life of a simple man, No fancy clothes or frills. Just a loin cloth was His garb. To Him it was no big deal. He showed His disciples how to trust And where to keep their eye. They could have walked on the water, too, If on His trust they would rely. He lived the life of a simple man. Let harmony and love abide. He'll be there with His warm embrace And touch your heart, down deep inside. Our Lord was a simple man, So easy to understand; If we would just be quiet and listen To what He is telling us. © Nancy Hoback E-Mail     |     Site

Reflection Quiet moments of reflection wash over me with gentleness, as yet another year is passing into my reservoir of memories And I find it heartwarming to reexamine the special ones, which for one reason or another are a defining part of whom I am It's fascinating why certain events we experience become so important while others are lost in the shadows, amongst so many other happenings But those rare incidents which ultimately effect us so deeply are the literal foundations of whom we are becoming So, it is only fitting to relive them in order to learn © dennis j hopkins 1999 E-Mail     |     Site

Always With You Deep down is this dark hole I see you Cuddle like an unborn child in a womb From the outside where I look The light of the heavens shine so bright You reached out to me from within the darkness But your hand I cannot see Tears trickle down your face, Oh what despair you thought Cuddle back with all hopes gone With warm then a soft touch you felt life My hand reached in and touch you Hold my hand love, don't let go Come to me, come see your light Holding you in my arms, you shall be with me always Never fear, I'm always near Smile for me, and you'll see, everything will be alright. © Anne M Ferland E-Mail     |     Site

Featured Midi © Bruce DeBoer
"Dream of Angels Live in Love" from his Watercolor Dreams Collection