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Death, Judgement, Heaven, Hell
Four last things the soul knows well.
All of time shall end that day,
But when it is I cannot say.
Day of wrath and doom impending,
When all things shall have an ending,
What shall I, frail man, be pleading,
Who for me be interceding?
What shall I answer in that day,
When all things shall pass away?
Christ came of old, a little babe,
He comes anew, His own to save.
But will we be the sheep or goats?
Depends on where we sow our oats.
The harvest then will be secure,
And grain and tares will both be sure.
Today’s the day that matters most,
Not wait until the World is toast.
Written by: Albert Jungers
