At our fiftieth we'll get to see old friends,
Hope this time everybody attends.
Those we used to play,
We'll see there that day
Once more before our SBHS number thins.
Throughout our school years and up to the present,
Select Hounds, angels for them He has for sent;
And those now still,
We won't see till
We go up yonder to where they all went.
I fancy someday a Golden Reunion
Which we'll all attend at life's here conclusion;
Will be teachers there
Pray none be elsewhere;
'Cause we want to see them all - no exception.
So, as we line up one behind another,
Like little ducklings following their mother,
We'll enter that Gate
At a steady rate;
Until we are all with Him there - together!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem