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All Aboard The Glory Train
The Glory Train is coming
I hear the whistle of Old Glory coming down the track
I hear the wheels going clackety clack
Yes God’s children it is so majestic in flight
I hear that whistle blowing morning, noon, and night
It’s flying down from heaven, God’s children at great speed
I think I see Jesus at the controls, yes that’s Jesus indeed
I see the holy angels hanging on the side
Ready to gather waiting servants to go for their last ride
Angels wings unfurl as they take their mighty flight
It is the most glorious sight
I know one day I will hear it coming down for me blowing it sweet whistle like music to my ears
At last it will be stopping for me after all these years.
I will enjoy my journey as we stop for others along the way
Then we will reach heavens portal on that great homecoming day!
Life is a journey enjoy the view and the ride along the way!
Soft Petals Of Poetry By Ruthie,
Tuesday, February 04, 2003, © ®
The inspiration for writing this poem is that, where we lived in the desert there were no train tracks.
Yet we could often hear the train whistle blowing, I thought it was just myself hearing it, and that I was hearing things. One day my husband heard it and also my son.
The other day when I was shopping, we could hear the train whistle very loud . The women in the car next to me said I would like to know how we hear the train whistle so loud, when there are no tracks anywhere near here?
I don’t know beloved it is a mystery to me?
A very earthly answer could be that we live in the valley, and the wind may carry it from some distance but I doubt that as we hear it to often.
Someone else said that perhaps someone is playing it on a recorder to confuse us? If that were so they would have to have a strong amplification system.
Well I went home after talking to someone else who hears it as often as I do.
I thought it over in my mind again and again this morning while thinking about it. I had a vision of this huge metal train flying out of the sky, Jesus was at the control and angels hanging on the sides.
I said what am I supposed to do with this Lord?
Then this poem came to me.
I have a Jewish Great-grandfather who was and actor, comedian, and Hebrew storyteller. Perhaps some of my Jewish storytelling is peeking through as I relate this to you.
Or perhaps if your eyes of faith are opening and you see it as I do?
Old Glory coming down from heaven to carry one of God’s children home? Perhaps?
Love and Shalom,
Ruthie
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