There’s a sound I do not hear.
It is not heralding victory from atop the recess jungle gym.
It is not giggling from carpeted rooms of sunlit color.
It is not humming and thumbing the book pages.
It is not calling out “red light” or “green light”.
It is not whispering a secret to a best friend.
It is not skipping across the hopscotch tiles.
It is not performing a sing-song alphabet.
It is not offering friendship for candy.
It is not weeping for Mama.
It is not calling for Papa.
It is not fearless.
It is not there.
There is a sound that I hear.
It is there.
It is without fear.
It calls, “Papa, I’m safe.”
It heartily urges, “Mama, don’t cry.”
It offers friendship amidst treasures.
It joyfully performs unearthly hymnodies.
It fearlessly skips the chasm of eternal death.
It whispers the revealed news of a Friend who saves.
It calls, “Go forward. Fight the good fight and do not stop.”
It hums and it thumbs through the Book of Life’s heavy pages.
It giggles and hops, sprints and glides among the gilded streets.
It heralds at heaven’s peak, with a might greater than the angels, a victory that shakes the very archways of eternity.
It calls forth with confidence, “O death, where is your victory? O, death, where is your sting?”
It is the sound of the little ones to whom heaven belongs.