Poetry

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BLOW THE TRUMPET IN ZION

Each day when I wake up
I know God’s in control
I can hear the Zion Trumpet
As up the road I go

I feel his foot steps walk beside me
He blows that trumpet too
When my lips get weary
He keeps the sound so true

He forever guides me upward
His staff is in my hand
He has promised never to leave me
I have joined that heavenly band

Someday, I’ll lay my trumpet down
And pick up my robe and crown
I will look him in the face
Thank him for all that grace
Jesus, precious Jesus, you died and took my place

Dear Jesus, precious Jesus, I thank your for your grace
I thank your for guiding my foot steps.
I thank you for taking my place
I could never repay you no matter how hard I try
When I think of all your love, I just break down and cry

The tears of joy take over and I begin to sing
Like the sound of a rushing wind
Pouring over my soul
A home in heaven is what I am seeking
It is my main goal.

No one or nothing can steer me from this path
I promise you dear Jesus, not even death
Can steal me from your grip,
If I should close my eyes and slip into that eternal sleep
You said you would go with me
Even unto the deep.

If I should sleep a thousand years,
Zion will still be marching on
Singing through the ages
That wonderful victory song

I will awake to a glorious sight
After I’ve slept what seems one night
People of all tongues and races
Will gather at the throne
And through eternal ages
Let the joy roll on.

Oh Lord, please just let me be there
Let me sing that victory song

“Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy hill. Let all who live in the land tremble, for the day of the LORD is coming. It is close at hand - a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and blackness. Like dawn spreading across the mountains a large and mighty army comes, such as never was of old nor ever will be in ages to come.” Joel 2:1,2

Poem by:
©Mary Alice Bowles
10/13/06

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