When I was just a boy in days of childhood,
I used to play till evening shadows come.
Then winding down an old familiar pathway,
I heard my mother call at set of sun:

Come home, come home,
It's supper time,
The shadows lengthen fast.
Come home, come home,
It's supper time,
We're going home at last.

One day beside her bedside I was kneeling,
And angel wings were winnowing the air.
She heard the call for supper time in heaven,
And I know she's waiting for me there.

Come home, come home,
It's supper time,
The shadows lengthen fast.
Come home, come home,
It's supper time,
We're going home at last.

In visions now I see her standing yonder,
And her familiar voice I hear once more.
The banquet table's ready up in heaven,
It's supper time upon the golden shore.

Come home, Come home,
It's supper time,
The shadows lengthen fast.
Come home, come home,
It's supper time,
We're going home at last.

"And He saith unto me, Write,
Blessed are they which are called
Unto the marriage supper of the Lamb ..."

Revelation 19:9

This Page is dedicated to my Mother, Mary Cordaro.
She went home to be with the Lord on February 22, 2002.
I will always miss her but I look
Forward to the day we see each other
At the Lord's Banquet Table.

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I would like to thank Alan Giana, the artist of this beautiful
Painting for allowing us to use it for this page.

© Alan Giana