In dreams now they come to me,
sweet memories from my past.
Shadowy figures I recognize,
walking those dark, misty paths.

Soft voices raised in worship,
old hymns that are sung no more.
The promise of life everlasting
when I reach that distant shore.

"Come, weary traveler, rest, sleep."
but my work is not yet done.
Though my body aches and suffers,
The Spirit and I are one.

Others mock, and they wonder
how this old man keeps going.
In their youth cannot realize,
Seeds of the future I am sowing.

There's a promise I must keep,
a final, fulfilling goal.
Work that taxes my body,
A gift that soothes my soul.

Sweet voices, I must deny you,
but only for a short while.
Soon, the bells will ring for me,
When I finish that last, long mile.