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An unbearable pain awaits her;
	For my beloved who is to bear.
A man cannot know this
	Even when Daddy is there.

Hope may spring eternal
	But it cannot quench the fire
Of the fruit of the labor
	Spawned from our heart’s desire.

I think to myself...
	When will it be time?
It is then that Grandfather Clock gives
	My daughter her very first chime.

She gasps her first breath
	Blessing us with her first cry.
She is born new and alive!
	And all she knows is time.


Next door is a boy of few moons
	Who hasn’t seen a single sun.
Born before his time
	Most think his life is already done.

Don’t tell that to his mother
	Don’t you even dare!
For she sees the clock.
	She is fully aware!

She thinks to herself
	“It is not my baby’s time to go!”
But within minutes
	His Bell will sadly toll.

He gasps his last breath
	And His mother begins to cry.
...Even as an Innocent of Grace
	All his Mother feels is time.

A man of many moons
	Is seeing the setting sun.
Living beyond his time
	The man know his race is won.

Hope will spring eternal
	And so will his life.
Not for his good fruit of labor
	But from Another’s toil and strife.

He thinks to himself
	It is now my time!
And with that, Grandfather Clock gives
	My friend his very last chime.

He sips his final breath
	But blesses us with a final smile.
He awaits a new and lasting life
	Where everything he has is time.


The man’s daughter begins to weep.
	She hasn’t seen the Father’s Son
She is living on borrowed time
	And in faith she professes none.

Don’t tell Christ to his daughter.
	Don’t you even dare!
She glances at her watch
	Totally without care.

She think’s to herself
	“It’s not my father’s time to go!”
But to the Believer
	His Bell did gladly toll.

She mutters curses under her breath
	She feels as a victim of crime.
Persons of Grace can give no consolation,
	For she feels cheated by time.
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