They come from everywhere, every possible way of life.
They gather together every morning, in the field of preparation.
As the Sun rises to its brilliance, the parade begins its journey.
Young men, young women, old men, old women, babes in arms, and toddlers screaming; all the mix of humanity walks toward the sunset.
Look, here comes the working man. His muscles formed like rocks.
Right behind him hobbles one, who’s barely able to walk.
A warrior’s he on bended knee, he’s crippled from the fight.
And passing him, a stately man; selfish pride his only might.
The vast parade of people, march before His Holy Throne.
Countless hundreds of billions, have come and gone alone.
I marvel so to think I might, catch the eye of He who’s Endless Life!
For where within this vast parade might my tiny body be?
Yet to my great joyous surprise, He comes and kisses me.
“What is man that you are mindful of him?”
By His Grace