Passing Hours

The hours pass
Sometimes slowly
It would seem
While at others
All too fast
Without our really knowing why

Until suddenly
Tomorrow dawns
And we are prone to wonder
How much of life we've missed
Or has simply
Passed us by

We fill our days as
Best we can
And use what gifts

Trusting we may finally leave
This world
Some worthy token
Of our swiftly passing years
On our way to Heaven

Ah
But all the same
We sometimes pause to wonder If between our
Now and then
Our hours of
Work or
Dreaming
Rest or playing
Will somehow shape
Our Everlasting Yonder

Yet slow or fast
The hours
The days
The years shall pass
And we must fill them with Our best
So when our times on earth Are done
We may rest
Content
At last…

— Ken Grant

In memory of some dear friends and residents who have gone home to the Lord in this season.