When I was but a wee lass,
I chanced upon a looking glass.
It's frame was cracked, old and yellow
On it's back, a carved face, soft and mellow.
As I gazed into it's silvery pane,
I thought for sure that I must be insane.
For there I saw not my reflection,
But a land of beauty and perfection.
It's majestic view held my gaze
As I drifted into it's silvery haze.
At once I longed to be in that land
Then I felt a soft tingling in my hand.
Turning over the mirror I could see
That kind gentle face staring at me.
Not now my child, someday you will hear,
The sound of My voice calling you near
Until then, just a glimpse of things to be,
As long as you continue to believe in Me.