Paul Johnson

Where will you be, and will you be there
When the Lord calls his own, to meet in the air?
The Lord Himself, will descend with a shout,
The Archangel’s voice, will be heard all about.
The trump of God will also be there
Heard only by saints as we fly through the air.
Those who are dead are first to be taken,
And saints who are living are not forsaken.
All ‘caught up’ in clouds forever we’ll meet
And cast down our crowns at His nail-pierced feet.
So where will you be, and will you be there
When the trumpet sounds, and my room is left bare?
For no-one knows the day or the hour,
He’ll simply appear as a springtime shower.
In the blink of an eye, and like shortness of breath,
Some still alive, and some who’re in death.
Gladly I’ll hear Him, and so will be taken,
But sadly for many, their core will be shaken.
They passed by their chances to trust in His love;
Then left here on Earth; not called up above.
So what is there left, to be heard, to be said?
Turn to the Saviour you don’t have to dread
What’s coming on earth when saints disappear
For you too will rise; have nothing to fear.
God’s promise is certain, for this is no lie,
And those who have sought Him can look to the sky.
A mansion in glory is waiting up there
If only you seek Him and do not dispair.
So, where will you be, I hope you’ll be there
When Jesus is calling to meet in the air.