When I'm Called Home
When I breathe my last upon this earth,
Donít be sad and filled with pain.
My purpose will be completed.
What Iíve longed for, Iíve attained.
Donít shed a tear, but smile instead.
My death is not the end.
Iím still living ~ just on a higher plane,
With Jesus ~ my dearest friend.
When my earthly body is lowered,
Into the cold, dark, dreary ground.
It wonít lie there forever,
Only Ďtil the trumpetís sound.
Please etch upon my headstone,
The date God gave me birth.
But enter not the month and year,
He took me from this earth.
My spirit will still be living,
For I was saved by grace.
Iíll be dwelling with my Savior.
In that glorious, heavenly place.
And when the final trumpet sounds,
First the dead in Christ shall rise.
Then my body that was buried,
Will be caught up in the skies.
It will meet there with my spirit.
And the two shall be entwined.
To form the perfect body,
That my precious Lord designed.
If God has not yet called you,
Before that final trumpet sounds,
Youíll be changed and rise to meet Him,
For you, too, are Heaven bound.
Written for my husband should God call me first.
Emily McAdams Copyright © 2003 -- submitted by: Emily McAdams ]
All Rights Reserved.