She travels high,
She travels low,
She sails through fire and
Walks on Brimstone
She listens to me cry,
As I listen to her moan
Still she rises and continues to rise,
Above all her illness and all her trials.
I cry as I watch her walk through the valley
And get approached by the shadow of death.
She refuses to stop;God has not called her yet.
As she continues her journey and presses
Her way to the throne ,
She's striving so hard to make
Heaven her far-future home.
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