There is an enormous mansion, behind heavens' gates.
Covered with a veil by a pure, holy glow.
Surrounding the mansion, the rivers of life,
The fountains of joy and everlasting light.
Inside the mansion, there was a royal ball
Filled with the saints as they danced through the halls.
A pleasant aroma made its way into the room,
Stamped with an incense carrying a marvelous tune.
The rhythms of grace, such sweet piercing melodies.
Angels are singing, up in the choir
Harmonious sounds, wafting in the air,
That transcends time and space all together.
The trumpets are blasting, echoing the halls,
Rolling out a red carpet, across the brightly lit floor.
Upon the entrance doors, enters the Savior.
Heads are turned, everyone stops dancing.
The music still playing, not a single note falters.
Without turning their gaze, they make way for the King.
Bowing down at His feet in absolute silence.
Revering the one and only, Lord God Almighty.
The Lord in His splendor, glides in triumphantly,
Making way to His throne gallantly and gracefully.
As He sits in His chair facing the crowd, He tells them to rise,
which they do in unison.
At the left hand beside Him, sits the Heavenly Father.
High upon the throne, His presence scintillating.
A holy breeze spoke to the crowd,
Causing a stir of emotions, and shouts of joy
The saints continue to rejoice in heaven.
Praising the LORD, for His rhythms of grace.
Covered with a veil by a pure, holy glow.
Surrounding the mansion, the rivers of life,
The fountains of joy and everlasting light.
Inside the mansion, there was a royal ball
Filled with the saints as they danced through the halls.
A pleasant aroma made its way into the room,
Stamped with an incense carrying a marvelous tune.
The rhythms of grace, such sweet piercing melodies.
Angels are singing, up in the choir
Harmonious sounds, wafting in the air,
That transcends time and space all together.
The trumpets are blasting, echoing the halls,
Rolling out a red carpet, across the brightly lit floor.
Upon the entrance doors, enters the Savior.
Heads are turned, everyone stops dancing.
The music still playing, not a single note falters.
Without turning their gaze, they make way for the King.
Bowing down at His feet in absolute silence.
Revering the one and only, Lord God Almighty.
The Lord in His splendor, glides in triumphantly,
Making way to His throne gallantly and gracefully.
As He sits in His chair facing the crowd, He tells them to rise,
which they do in unison.
At the left hand beside Him, sits the Heavenly Father.
High upon the throne, His presence scintillating.
A holy breeze spoke to the crowd,
Causing a stir of emotions, and shouts of joy
The saints continue to rejoice in heaven.
Praising the LORD, for His rhythms of grace.
Then I mean the kind which writes novels, plays, e.t.c...