The dice thrown down determines who shall enter on that day
Into the jaws of trial and who shall guide the way
As swords are drawn in battle and to foul purpose lent
The devil’s here incarnate the veil it has been rent.
He throws his die upon the earth upon foul purpose bent
The moments pass, his prey consumed. Can this be what was meant?
No, who shall counter in this game? Who shall stand before
The one that hell’s afflicted and guide them to the door?
Who will grasp unto the light and in its presence bare
The one entrapped, and squirming, just who will help them there?
I enter in upon the fray as in My hand I hold
A soldier armed in dread array My purpose to unfold.
He dare not lose for in his hand I placed the thread of life
Which once I gave upon the cross to free men from this strife.
His battle won, he works for Me, and he shall win this day
For though the dice is tossed full oft’ ‘tis I shall win the day!
I never promised a rose garden, not here on earth at any rate. Earth is a battlefield where war is waged for the souls of men.
The eye, the touch, the taste, the smell
Life savored, lived, explored.
Life, a strange and wonderful panorama,
Infinite in possibilities.
Some stay close to home
Others journey far.
Life explored in many ways.
A expanding within the hearts of those we love.
Or resounding in crescendo to compass the globe.
The heart can leap with joy from the song of a bird
As from the grandest orchestra.
The secret lies within the heart
Not in the situation
The heart of love will ever know joy
Though its confines be narrow and straight.
The joy of life is
Feeling, reacting, believing, touching others souls.
It is found in what we give away
Not in what we keep.
Youth is not lost which was spent in earnest coinage,
Each day exchanged for experience, for life!
A day is not wasted if drained in a deep draught
Till the last drop.
Rather stored away,
Their transitory substance exchanged for solid coinage,
Time transmuted into lasting substance,
Those things in the heart and mind can never be erased.
Youth is not lost but transformed,
A thing of wafting beauty refined to solid gold.