Potentates and princes have come and gone, and violent passions have swirled around many, yet all will in the end come to the end of their lives and they will not determine where we spend eternity.
Kipling hints of in his poem, Recessional:
The tumult and the shouting dies;I see these self-important people grasping for power, wishing to steer our lives, but in the end not realizing that we are not really in their grasp. Oh, they may influence us for a little while and their plans and schemes may seem overwhelmingly important. They can leave us alone, imprison us, or rob us of our labor. But in the end, we will escape their most intricate traps. It’s inevitable. It’s called death. But thanks to God, we have the promise of a life beyond this life where they cannot reach and their threats and promises have no sway.
The captains and the kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!
And, redeemed by faith, we will be with the assembly of the saints.
Great reminder. Thanks!
Post a Comment