WHAT IS TIME

by Charles Robey
(Trussville AL, USA)

What is time, but a speck of sand on God's beach
What is time, but a child's hand holding out to reach
What is time, but a feather in God's fouls of the air
What is time, but a rain drop on God's earth to spare
What is time, but a moment on Gods timeless clock
What is time, but a day on God's calendar to chalk
What is time, but a star dusk flowing through the sky
What is time, but a moon beam passing swiftly by
What is time, but a snow flake so melodiously falling
What is time, but a winter wind clearly faintly calling
What is time, but a pause in the wet blowing rain
What is time, but a fog on the cold winter terrain
What is time ,but a quite soft spoken babbling brook
What is time, but a dark dusty long winding nook
What is time, but a long summer jog in the park
What is time, but a fearful short stroll in the dark
What is time, but a youth that' s so blissfully playing
What is time, but a senior for young energy craving
What is time, but a chorus tune so sweetly singing
What is time, but a harp chord so blissfully stringing
What is time, but a soul in the wilderness of life
What is time, but a single heart beat from strife
What is time, but a soft voice from the heaven above
What is time, but a gathering of all those He loved
What is time, but a reunion of God's redeemed host
What is time, but a forever with those loved most
What is time, but a nonbeliever crying and walling
What is time, but a lost spirit to God forever failing
What is time, but a God who is patently waiting
What is time, but a God with love constantly caring

"But forget not this one thing, beloved, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day" ( 2 Peter 3:8).

I have many loved ones and friends, whom I dearly miss. For they are now in the presence of our Lord. It seems like they have been gone forever, but they have not yet finished their first day with their Lord. For you see there are no clocks in Glory Land. Nor, are there any calendars.

"Whereas you know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away." (James 4:14)

So, what is time but a collection of life's circumstances, that pass like a vapor from one day to the next? And, what is your life? All your plans must depend of course on the continuance of your life; but what a frail and uncertain thing is that! How temporary and brief is a basis on which to build any plans for the future? Who can calculate on the permanence of a vapor? Who can build any solid hopes on a mist?