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Rutherford has a lovely home, a spacious lawn and lot,
But danger hovers overhead although he fears it not,

Amidst the lofty trees above where once a year he works,
An undetected highline wire softly hums and lurks,

Many a month it's existed there, so tautly stretched on high,
My friend said, "Lord, please take me quickly, comes my turn to die,"

"Not like some who suffer long when death is painfully slow,"
"Recently, I've seen my brother pitifully go."

Ron hadn't faltered, Jesus' work still needed to be done,
But passed the torch to someone else, his earthly race was run,

A sudden flash and off to Heaven instantly he went,
He left performing needful tasks, his soul at peace, content.

                                                            by D. Edgar Murray