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The Gathering hand of God

by Peter Marks © 2008

The softly gathering hand of God,
That touched me, so long ago,
Is bringing me to my journeys end
And whispering - time to go.

Creeping years, that seemed to last so long,
Are like a dreary Winter's day.
That briefly sings its short lived song
Then swiftly dies and fades away.

Nearly finished, nearly home,
Always sheltered by His care,
A journey in the Father's heart
And now I'm almost there.

In darkening dusk, just up ahead,
The world fades out of sight
And there He is, He waits for me,
His face, my eternal light.

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