One night my mother woke from a chilling dream in which my father had died. She grabed paper and pen and wrote these words:
Last night I dreamed that you walked through those cold iron gates of death.
I had to sit and watch you go, to walk that lonely path.
Oh, how I pleaded, begged and cried, to have you here with me
To take the clock of time and turn it back to yesterday.
I thought of all the happy years we had together, dear.
And of the precious babies God had sent us through the years.
Even though they are so dear, they couldn't take your place.
And I cried "God, please let me have a chance to touch his face.
Or maybe you would let me go and walk along with him
Down that lonely, chilly path, through valleys that are dim."
Then suddenly, I felt at peace and I awoke at last,
To find you there, beside me, dear as always in the past.
With trembling hands, I touched your face, and as you always do
You turned, and though still fast asleep, you drew me close to you.
As I lay there, inside your arms, I thanked God, fervently,
For turning back with His own hands, that racing clock for me.
Last night I dreamed that you walked through those cold iron gates of death.
I had to sit and watch you go, to walk that lonely path.
Oh, how I pleaded, begged and cried, to have you here with me
To take the clock of time and turn it back to yesterday.
I thought of all the happy years we had together, dear.
And of the precious babies God had sent us through the years.
Even though they are so dear, they couldn't take your place.
And I cried "God, please let me have a chance to touch his face.
Or maybe you would let me go and walk along with him
Down that lonely, chilly path, through valleys that are dim."
Then suddenly, I felt at peace and I awoke at last,
To find you there, beside me, dear as always in the past.
With trembling hands, I touched your face, and as you always do
You turned, and though still fast asleep, you drew me close to you.
As I lay there, inside your arms, I thanked God, fervently,
For turning back with His own hands, that racing clock for me.
One night my mother woke from a chilling dream in which my father had died. She grabed paper and pen and wrote these words:
Last night I dreamed that you walked through those cold iron gates of death.
I had to sit and watch you go, to walk that lonely path.
Oh, how I pleaded, begged and cried, to have you here with me
To take the clock of time and turn it back to yesterday.
I thought of all the happy years we had together, dear.
And of the precious babies God had sent us through the years.
Even though they are so dear, they couldn't take your place.
And I cried "God, please let me have a chance to touch his face.
Or maybe you would let me go and walk along with him
Down that lonely, chilly path, through valleys that are dim."
Then suddenly, I felt at peace and I awoke at last,
To find you there, beside me, dear as always in the past.
With trembling hands, I touched your face, and as you always do
You turned, and though still fast asleep, you drew me close to you.
As I lay there, inside your arms, I thanked God, fervently,
For turning back with His own hands, that racing clock for me.
Last night I dreamed that you walked through those cold iron gates of death.
I had to sit and watch you go, to walk that lonely path.
Oh, how I pleaded, begged and cried, to have you here with me
To take the clock of time and turn it back to yesterday.
I thought of all the happy years we had together, dear.
And of the precious babies God had sent us through the years.
Even though they are so dear, they couldn't take your place.
And I cried "God, please let me have a chance to touch his face.
Or maybe you would let me go and walk along with him
Down that lonely, chilly path, through valleys that are dim."
Then suddenly, I felt at peace and I awoke at last,
To find you there, beside me, dear as always in the past.
With trembling hands, I touched your face, and as you always do
You turned, and though still fast asleep, you drew me close to you.
As I lay there, inside your arms, I thanked God, fervently,
For turning back with His own hands, that racing clock for me.
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