Daniel Isaac Gordon

All the things we do today
Will soon be things done yesterday
As all the burdens we now borrow
Will be but grains of sand tomorrow.
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The years go by with life and death,
The pattern never broken,
No attempt to detour fate,
No words of promise spoken.
...

What things we take for granted
We see them every day;
From smiles on happy faces
To children hard at play.
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O, the tears I must have wept
From Heaven up above
The day that Jesus gave His life
And proved to us His love.
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Sitting on an icy bench
waiting for a bus
i don't know where it's going
on this chilly afternoon
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My head is aching out my ears,
I don't think I could hurt any more,
But then I think of Jesus Christ,
Bleeding from every pore.
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The serpent lies in wait to deceive,
Be ye ready to fight,
To defend the honor of your king,
Who created you in His might.
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I whisper good morning to beautiful skies
I whisper good morning to beautiful eyes
I whisper good morning to all as I rise
For goodness does surely surround me.
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I whisper good night to my loved ones nearby
I whisper good night to my Lord up on high
I whisper my thanks for this day that passed by
And I humbly pray for another.
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As I think about my trials in life,
I find it plain to see,
That as much as I believe in God,
God believes in me.
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Dig your grave out with a spoon
And pray the Reaper don't come soon
But when he comes. your days to ruin
Go give him your best shot.
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Eighty-six thousand, four hundred to live
To love and to hate, to take and to give
The choices you made, the things that you did
All become real as you lay down in bed.
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Life goes on and time goes by,
Some people laugh, while others may cry,
Some people want a second dance,
While others wish they had a first chance,
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Love those you love whole-heartedly,
Yes, love them unconditionally,
Love them in the here and now,
Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
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My life is a thrill
Yet I find myself, still
Desiring that you were near me,
So far from your kiss
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Why do ye rush to Heaven,
Thy God on high to greet?
Why doth ye fly on skyward,
Winged sandals on thy feet?
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Just as the ancient winds do blow the needles on the swaying pine
The rhythm makes us flow
The rhythm is divine.
...

How oft are the plans of both men and of mice
'neath the footsteps of Providence trodden,
Some alternative outcome now made to suffice
For a longing subdued, not forgotten.
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These days I dwell in grief and pain
My every word breeds more disdain
With every thought my soul does strain
Will I ever smile again?
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I have grown weary of today
I yearn for the new morrow
To arrive on sunlit wings
With its fortunes near in tow
...