I heard them calling you
and the right hand of God came down,
lifted you to crowning heights
and carried you from town.
You soared together on wings of doves
until noon light had shone
and all the while they’re calling you,
“daughter, welcome home.”
You flew over sea, forest and field
towards the setting sun,
while heavens voice kept calling you,
“friend, welcome home.”
Higher and higher til pillowed clouds
led the path to go
and a small voice was calling you
“Mother, welcome home.”
The golden gates sparked bright
and your eyes began to grow,
as he stood there arms open
greeting “my wife, welcome home.”
So towards the sky I gaze
To look for the one I love
and as a vision she appears
cheering, “now, I am home.”
