The falling leaves are telling me
Another year is winding down,
The years are bright with godly hope,
And yet my days are growing short,
My days, like leaves, fall one by one.
They fall. They fall and won't return,
And yet, one day, my Lord will come
And all at once his saints will rise,
Saints will rise,
Saints will rise.
Saints rise to meet him in the skies.
I'll see and serve him ever more,
For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.
(1 Thessalonians 4:16 ESV)