The Choice we make
And what’s at stake
Can steal one’s very breath away
This course we climb
On shores called Time
Leads to a deadline none can sway
Holy, the toll
Where seasons roll
Toward a Goal of soul and God
This day of grace
To human race
Is more than trifling traipse on sod
When what now is
Comes to the very end of it
Where will we be
Our very death depends on it
Thus Who we choose
Or else refuse
From He whose Son died, souls to save
Becomes the Door
Heaven or hell waits in each grave
© Janet Martin
Anyone whose name was not found written
in the book of life was thrown into the lake of fire.
Please, please, (I beg you unashamedly)
if you are uncertain of where you are going after you die,
or how to get to where you want to go when you die, listen to this message:
your very death may depend on it!
More messages here
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this:
While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Poems like this are not written
because they are 'fun'
but because everyone
with The Choice we lay
before Jesus' feet
Excerpts from the Book A Man Called Peter
available on Amazon.