Tears will Never Stain the Streets of That City
This is probably the most personal post I’ve ever made on this blog. But there are days when that’s the only kind of post I can write.
“Tears Will Never Stain the Streets of That City,” an old Dottie Rambo classic, has been on my mind and heart a lot over the last few days.
A friend in my town, who attended my church periodically, shared my love of Southern Gospel music. Sometimes he’d bring his guitar and help lead worship while I played piano. He had some mental issues and may have been slightly retarded, but he was one of the sweetest older men (50s) I’ve met.
He was murdered on Monday.
I live in a little town, and murders here are shocking to start with. But to see a friend’s name in those headlines is a feeling I hope I never have again.
I have questioned the loss of a loved one
For the grave seems so final and cold.
But we’ll meet again in a land where death has no victory
In a land where we’ll never grow old.
And tears will never stain the streets of that city
No wreath of death on my mansion door.
Teardrops aren’t welcome beyond the gates of Glory
And the heart will never break anymore