I found the following little poem while cleaning out some drawers.  It is from an old church bulletin from my dad’s church.  It has a great message…take a look.  -anita


The clock of life is wound but once,

And no man has the power

To tell just when the hands will stop

At late or early hour.


To lose one’s wealth is sad indeed.

To lose one’s health is more.

To lose one’s soul is such a loss

That no man can restore.  -Unknown


Many people around the world died while you read this short poem.  Every hour, several thousands of people go to meet their Maker.  You could have been among them.  Sooner or later, you will be.



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