Jim Richardson

The Last Bell

I hear the toll of the last bell
And sense God, s peace within
Slowly the toll fades away
Soon I will be free of sin

I hear the clop of the horse's feet
Slowly pulling the hearse away
Down the narrow cobble stone street
Toward my room of clay

They saw my casket in the church
And all were passing in review
Words were voiced in hushed tones
And flowers arrayed in brilliant hew

They spoke low and reverently and how
Nice I looked a smile upon my face
And those that had not seen me in years
Said I had grown old with grace

After that tears were shed and
Prayers were offered up
The pastor pleading for my soul
But only God can fill my cup

Now we approach the funeral tent
And soon I'll be laid to rest
After all who knows I may
Be truly blest

The church is silent and empty
All the candles are cold
The hymns have faded and echo's prevail
Awaiting God's call for another soul

Poem Submitted: Sunday, February 18, 2007
Poem Edited: Thursday, January 20, 2011

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