Heaven’s scribe keeps a record

Of all our woes and strife.

Each day becomes another page

In the journal of our Life.

Our acts are recorded there,

Throughout the night and day,

Every single deed and thought,

And every idle word we say.

There’s people who’s judgmental,

And sometimes judge us wrong,

But the truth will never fail us,

As we stand before the throne.

His laws are just and righteous;

We have no need to fear.

His records are filed in order;

The ink is bold and clear.

September 10, 1991