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 At the end of the rainbow,
Where earthly crowns are flung;
Where self is lost;
And our gains are dung.
Where we give everything
To help the broken stand;
Where we offer the lonely
Our loving hand.
Where we love all losers
And help them succeed;
Where we feed the hungry
And help the captive be freed.
Where the last are first
And the first are last.
Where we wash the feet
Of the rejected and outcast.
It's where we love
To be unknown;
Regarded as nothing;
Where we're not our own.
At the end of the rainbow,
We're a new creation;
Where we lose ourselves
And find salvation.
poem by Dean Robinson
e-mail him about it at drobinson@sebesta.com | 
