The Angels

When Death is near, heaven bends down low,
And angels slip down from the skies.
They take us by the hand, and carry us away,
To a land where no one ever dies.

To Abraham’s bosom, the scriptures say,
What a wonderful place to rest.
With our head on Jesus’ breast
We’ll never know another care…
Only eternal joy and bliss!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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