This life on this earth is like a mist that lingers for a while,
Like a misty morn in a countryside mile.
The time will come when it has drifted away,
It did not stay, nay, nay, nay.
Mist can be thick, or thin, whilst it moves for a time,
Neither will stay, but drift away like the sound of a chime.
After this life, there is an eternity to face,
Where did he go? Oh! What place, what place?
Did he know Jesus when he died this day?
If yes, Hallelujah! He is in heaven today.
The only way for you to go to the heavenly place,
Hurry, hurry! You need to receive the Lord Jesus Christ, the free gift of grace.
poem by K. Gilliham
