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The Train of Life

by Mark Henderson © 2017

Life moves along
Like a train along its tracks
There is no reverse
There is no going back

Just a narrow thin line
And a line straight ahead
On a path set by God
And a course He has bled

And though we see its horizon
With an anticipatory eye
It's bends and mountains
Are a challenge in which reside

But its tracks splendidly built
For each passenger inside
Not a detail is missing
On this line He's supplied

And so we start the adventure
On His tracks called faith
In the train of His love
And in hope do bathe

But there is an interloper
A jack of all trades
A bandit along side
And the train tries to invade

His words smartly spoken
As his clothes stylishly paid
Not a detail is missing
In the smile on his face laid

And so he takes us to the window
As he causes us to look back
At the past we are leaving
At the stuff down the track

And along its steep bends
He encourages us look down
Through the holes in the track
And the certain death in it found

And then straight ahead
He points out the mountain
That exceeds all our faith
As he chokes hopes fountain

And having set our eyes aside
He slithers down the aisle
Seeking to make his escape
In his stealthy demonic style

But before he can exit
The conductor leans in
Having overheard his misadventure
He throttles him mid-sin

"What is this deadly creature
I've found in the aisle
Who was slinking toward the exit
With a grin and a wry smile"?

But in the Master's strong grip
His facade quickly exposed
As he's tossed from the train
And his carcass disposed

And so we look straight ahead
As we come over that hill
And a rainbow now laid
With our hearts to instill

And so with eyes wide forward
To all that lies ahead
With our sin in the past
And from it deeds now dead

We will rest by His throne
Under the wings of His presence
In the arms of His love
Upon the train of His radiance

Isaiah 6:1-3
In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple. 2 Above it stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. 3 And one cried to another and said:

"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
The whole earth is full of His glory!"

For He commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the
waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths:
their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger
like a drunken man, and are at their wit’s end. Then they cry unto the Lord
in their trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses.
He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.
Psalm 107:25-29

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Click Here to contact Mark Henderson to request permission to use this poem.