Last Trip Home

 

I wish I could go home again,

One time, before I die,

To where the grass seems always green,

And mountains touch the sky,.

 

I wish that I could see again,

The old farm I once knew,

I see it in my mindís eye now,

The corn is wet with dew.

 

I wonder if the old shed stands,

Wherein, my youth I played,

And is that wooden fence still there,

That dad and granddad made?

 

It wont be long till harvest time,

The reaperís coming soon,

I wish I could go home again,

And see the farm in June.

 

Godís hand upon the meadow,

Wild Flowers blossom now,

The planter resting in the barn,

Beside the idle plough.

 

The rake be rusting in the yard,

Itís seen its better days,

How much Iím like that implement,

In many, many ways.

 

Oh God, please take me home again,

To that farm I once knew,

Thank you Lord, I see it now,

Itís coming into view.

 

Iím here, Oh Lord, Iím home again,

This once, before I die,

To where the grass seems always green,

And mountains touch the sky.

 used by permission
Copyright © Ron Bliss
All Rights Reserved 

       

 
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