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November 24, 1996
We see them distant, glowing tread
upon their heav'nward way
these saints of God from death redeemed
through blood so freely spilled.
We see them sing in distant joy,
our end so far from theirs,
who seek and serve the greatest love;
that glory we abhor
And as we cringe in mortal dread
of Him whom they adore
two words alone our fear torment:
Dear God in heaven our judge alone
we knew, and laughed to scorn the truth
of true freedom freely giv'n.
We knew, and know, and weep in pain,
who now live here in death,
removed fore'er from utmost love ...
... and pow'rless to change.
A poem by Peter Rhebergen
Each New Day A Miracle
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