The Wind Will Blow

The span of our life,
Is like mist before the sun.
By the time it is over,
Life has hardly begun.

The wind will blow,
And we will be gone.
On the stage of our life,
The curtain will be drawn.

For our brief time on earth,
Exhausting toil is a must.
But all we struggle to build,
Will crumble and rust.

Nothing here lasts,
Least of all you and me.
So what does it matter?
Can there true purpose be?

If all that awaits us,
Is eternal non-existence,
Then I see no point,
In this futile persistence.

Why rise again,
To face another day,
If soon all that we love,
Will be forever wiped away?

We all have a desire,
Etched onto our hearts;
A longing that requires,
Life that never departs.

This is because we were made,
In the image of the Divine.
Yahweh, Lord of Heaven,
Made us not to decline,

But to abide and exist,
With Him in joy and splendor.
For eternity to live,
And love Him, our Defender.

To restore and redeem us,
To eternal life with Himself,
Our Lord lovingly descended,
And faced Death itself.

As both God and man,
He lived without sin.
Yet He chose to die,
In our place that we might come in.

He was nailed to a tree;
His flesh was ground to a pulp.
He swallowed our sin,
With a single great gulp.

He drank deep of our sorrow,
And for us faced Death’s maw,
That we might have a tomorrow,
Set free from Death’s jaw.

After three days,
He rose to new life.
He trampled down Death,
To set us free from the strife.

Now though our time,
On this earth is short,
All who trust Jesus,
He will transport,

Through the dark valley,
Under Death’s shadow,
Into the eternal life,
Which His rising foreshadowed.

Though our days here are few,
We can be certain,
All who trust Jesus,
Will enter Life through Death’s curtain.