Would that you were my valentine,
right here, could say that you're still mine;
last year you did, and proved it too;
I so remember kissing you,

your tender lips, and flowing hair
let down, so I could only stare
and wonder if a dream you were,
or if you'd more on me confer.

And now, this year, although you're gone,
your warm embrace still lingers on,
and seems so real when, in the night,
I stir, wake up, turn on the light.

Then, as I see your vision fade,
I think of sacred vows we've made,
that who'd be left must even smile,
because we're parted but a while.

So I can wait, despite this pain
and trust that I'll see you again;
with this my frequent fears are quelled;
for sure in Jesus' arms you're held.

These days, when people come my way,
commiserate, inclined to say,
"You've lost your wife then; that's so sad,"
I tell them why it's not that bad.

How can I say that Jinny's lost?
For even when in dreams I'm tossed,
reality comes to my aid;
She went to Glory, unafraid!

If she were lost, I'd not know where,
but she resides in Jesus' care,
NOT LOST, FOR I KNOW WHERE SHE IS;
our Saviour keeps his promises!