Your feet, dragging in slow motion,
and the sand is in your shoes.
Take heart...look up the road!
You're almost home.
I see the finish line,
the place for me to cross.
The end is near, the radiance clear
and I am almost home.
"I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of
God in Christ Jesus."
Written by Betty J. Banks
<----> SEND THIS POEM TO A FRIEND! <---->