“There’s a land beyond the river, That we call the sweet forever, And we only reach that shore by faith’s decree;”

As each of us assesses the passing years, more and more our thoughts turn to our own mortality.

“One by one we’ll gain the portals, There to dwell with the immortals, When they ring the golden bells for you and me.”

The awareness of the approaching end of our journey, be it sooner or later, is simply an inexorable reality.

“Don’t you hear the bells now ringing, Don’t you hear the angels singing? ‘Tis the glory hallelujah Jubilee: In that far-off sweet forever, Just beyond the shining river, When they ring the golden bells for you and me.”

A hope for a hereafter of peace and the glory of our Maker’s presence is surely a shared desire among the people of many religions.

“When our days shall know their number, When in death we sweetly slumber, When the king commands the spirit to be free;”

Believing in something, no matter how fervently, doesn’t make it so. But believing makes the journey better.

“Never more with anguish laden, We shall reach that lovely Aiden, When they ring the golden bells for you and me.”

What better than music, the pealing of the bells, to herald a new life? What better, indeed.

“Don’t you hear the bells now ringing, Don’t you hear the angels singing? ‘Tis the glory hallelujah Jubilee. In that far-off sweet forever, just beyond the shining river, when they ring the golden bells for you and me.”

Once recently, I said to my Incomparable First Wife that I was living on borrowed time. That, actuarially, I had already lived longer than those in my demographic, on average, lived. She didn’t like the “borrowed time” characterization. Too dark. Then I realized more than “borrowed time” these were really my “bonus years.” A gift.

“When They Ring The Golden Bells” was written (copyright) in 1887 by Dion DeMarbelle.

Let us hope he heard those bells at his journey’s end.

Let us hope each of us does too.

Shalom, friends.