All things will be made new.
The past things are in the past.
Death and crying and pain are thru,
Decreed by GOD like a trumpet blast.
From heaven the new land will descend-
GOD's dwelling for man in His holy city.
It is our new home built for love without end-
Robed as a bride divine and pretty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem