Nita S. Balma
My Hope - Poem by Nita S. Balma
I often take the long way 'round
When I am traveling into town
Then I can pass the old homeplace
Tho' little tears run down my face,
For I imagine I can see
My daddy's chair beneath that tree,
Where he and mom would sit and wait
And worry if I showed up late.
We're really glad you came today
I remember Mom would say
And by their faces I could see
I was as welcome as could be.
Yes, we're mighty glad to have you
That's what daddy always said,
And we'd bow our heads together
When dear mother broke the bread.
Someday I hope the Savior
Will call them both by name,
And midst great joy, He'll tell them
I'm mighty glad you came.
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