When at last I reach deaths' portal,
leaving this old body to crumble.
And I step through, now fully immortal,
of no ego will I be, completely humble.

With tongue confess and stumble,
my knees and heart will tremble.
Of Him Who sits the throne,
Jesus, Who bought Salvation; alone.

Have I made Him my only God,
while I walked this earthly sod?
Will my soul to heaven sail,
or fall to hell with great assail?

The answer begs the question,
and mostimes drags one to depression.
When they consider the moment,
they will stand in the judgement.

What happens at the throne there,
when I stand before him bare.
Depends on how I lived here,
did I prove insincere?

Did I reach back to those who reached out,
who needed comfort, but remained without.
Did I exhibit a Christlike behavior,
extending the love given me by the Savior?

Have I yielded to the broadway,
enjoying life, living the easy way.
Or have I struggled against human ways,
to stay on the narrow highway?

All these question through my mind wrangle,
leaves me speechless, my tongue in a tangle.
For these doubts and thoughts to be quietened,
requires blood of the only One heightened.

When washed white and clean, with perfect blood applied,
by the only One Who can sanctify.
For only His blood can wash clean the mortal,
and make one worthy to step through the portal.

To that heavenly abode,
paradise, home.
Through deaths' portal,
to life . . . immortal.