Picture this, the Throne room of God,
Where angels sing and cherubs nod,
The air is filled with holy light,
And everything is pure and right.
The Throne itself is made of gold,
Its radiance a sight to behold,
And on it sits the Lord above,
Surrounded by His endless love.
Around the Throne, the 24 elders bow,
Their crowns upon their heads somehow,
And every creature great and small,
Praises God who reigns over all.
The music of the harps resounds,
As heavenly angels sing and sound,
And every note that echoes there,
Fills the Throne room with holy air.
The fragrance of the incense sweet,
Rises up to God's holy seat,
And every prayer that's lifted high,
Is heard by Him who reigns on high.
So picture this, the Throne room of God,
Where love and grace are never odd,
And know that one day we'll be there,
With Christ our King, beyond compare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem