When the day has come

And the hour, of the King's returning,

When the trumpets are blaring and calling

And the glory is blazing and burning

I will scramble for a back seat

While others are pushing past me

On their way to get a bit closer

For I fear the King's splendour may blast me.

I will seek a more distant view

And hope to look on from afar

For fear of being blinded

By the pure holy Morning Star.

For when holiness stands before mortals

We will covet vast eternity's hall

For to sing all the King of King's praises

All creation, All time, are too small.
-HJ Jan 2, 2011