An old ledger came to me that was probably kept by a man named William Garrett. Many would prize this document for its historical content, but something far more precious to me is the poem written on one of its back pages. This work was probably put there sometime between 1833 and 1859. I  do not know if it was original with the writer or not, but I do know the merit of the thought it contains. The only changes I have made to the text is to update some of the spelling. Now this voice speaks to us  from the past in a poem he titled simply:

A Song Ballad

Farewell farewell to all below
My Savior calls and I must go
I launch my bark upon the sea
This land is not the land for me

I find the winding paths of sin
A rugged way to travel in
Beyond the swelling flood I see
The Land my Savior bought for me

Farewell dear friends I may not stay
The home I seek is far away
Where Christ is not I can not be
This land is not the land for me

Praise be to God my home is on high
Where angels sing and so will I
Where angels bow and bend their knees
Oh that's the land, the land for me

There is no night, there it's always day
And God shall wipe all tears away
And Saints the Saviorís face shall see
Oh that's the land the land for me

There kindred spirits meet again
All free from sorrow pain and sin
Thy feast and pleasures full and free
Oh that's the land the land for me

Oh sinners why will you not go
There is room enough  for you I know
Our boat is sound the passage free
And there's a better land for thee

            Jonsquill Ministries

P. O. Box 752

Buchanan, Georgia 30113