quote:

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When I’m alone I often think of an old house on the hill,
of a big yard edged in roses where we ran and played at will.
And when the nighttime brought us home, hushing our merry den,
Mother would look around and ask “are all the children in?”

Well it been many a year now, and the old house on the hill
no longer has my mother’s care - and the yard is still so still.
But if I listen I can hear it all, no mater how long its been
I seem to hear my mother ask,
“Are all the children in?”

And I wonder when the curtain falls on that last earthly day;
when we say good bye to all of this to our pain and work and play;
when we step across the river where mother so long has been,
will we hear her ask a final time, “are all the children in?”

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quote:

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Dear Jack,
We lost you one sad day in May 1944. I was twelve years old. Some of these songs were the songs that we sang at your funeral. As you were dying, you gave us a description of heaven and singing angels. Could these be some of the songs that the angels were singing? See you later, Your little brother, J.R.

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