Shakespearean Sonnet
When ancient time shuts tight its rusted doors
Beforehand emptying its storied floors
Of all who have traversed and mingled there,
What din or silence will those halls release
As, ushered out into the last frontier,
The throng of nations and of centuries
On lush eternity’s expanse appears!
The hallowed King emerges from the haze
With beauty for which words hold not the hue,
Yet still so many cast their longing gaze
On time’s worn inn, the only home they knew;
But home at last, my heart and eyes will race
To rest upon my risen Savior’s face.
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Published in Inheritance Magazine (Issue No. 61).
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