Mansions on a hill across this lake I see;

Many roofs and many windows

Settled in among the trees.

The glistening blue and the lazy breeze drift by;

While the reflected calm sleeps

And the Bald Eagle rides on high.


The world is shut out when Iím framed in beauty;

All greatness lapses into a vine

Of the flowing ivy.

Distant sounds are muffled by the birdís sweet cry;

But the deer are silent in the overgrown brush

Where they lie.


Is this solitude put here only for me,

Or are others welcome like the incoming waves

Of the sea?

To the Creator I ask the question why?

And the answer is found in His Son,

Who on the cross did die.


No less than all His love for eternity;

For itís Jesus Christ in His glorious nature

That I see.


 This Lake by Ronhales                                                                                                                                             Hebrews 13:20-21

View this writing on designer paper.        Home