Painter of the Sky

Someday I’ll cross the transient border-line
Dividing time from all eternity
And only words I’ve said and things I’ve done
Will be all that then remains of me
Oh, but you won’t need to cry
I’m going to meet the Painter of the sky

You ask me how I know I can be sure
That Heaven waits in my eternity
The love of Christ keeps His beloved secure
Because His precious blood has set me free
And someday in the nearer by and by
I’m going to meet the Painter of the sky

Someday I’ll stand in awe, not here below
But in some port beyond the setting sun
And I will feast my eyes upon the glow
Of Jesus Christ; as I bow at His throne
His nail-scarred hands will wipe each tear-drop dry
As I gaze at the Painter of the sky

Janet Martin~

The sun-set was breath-taking last night.

Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens.
Who created all these? Isa. 40:26

1 John 5:11-13 (New International Version, ©2011)
11 And this is the testimony: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. 12 Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.
Concluding Affirmations
13 I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life.

Sitting on my Front Porch

Sitting on my front-porch with loved ones at my knee
Drinking in the music of the twilight’s melody
Tiny sip of glory is this evening paradise
Sitting on my front-porch as my Maker paints the skies

Somewhere in the valley I can hear the cattle low
The pasture-land lies golden-bronze beneath the sunset’s glow
Faintly I can hear the church-bells chiming down the street
Beyond the noisy traffic and the muffled busy feet

Sitting on my front-porch, this my humble palace grand
Apartheid to an orchestra led by Heaven’s hand
Hummingbird and firefly and busy honey-bee
And little children’s laughter joins in Heaven’s melody

Tiny splash of paradise has dropped from Heaven’s brush
Landing on my front-porch in this sacred evening hush
Lemon tea or lemonade either one is fine
Sitting on my front-porch ‘neath the shadow of His vine

Sonny, grab your silver spoons so you can keep the beat
I’ll play my harmonica while sister taps her feet
Standing on His promises, praising Christ the Lord
Sitting on my front-porch I desire nothing more

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Our front porch is no great thing of
beauty to most passers-by....
but to me it's a little slice of
paradise as sweet memories
blow on tender breezes.