I Long For Death

An old man on his cold bed lay.

His clothes were brown, his hair was gray.

His health, fame, fortune: gone away.

He took a deeper breath to say,

“I long for death;

For death, you see,

Is life to me.”

“No, no!” I cried and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t say such things!  You must understand.

Hope for life, there is no Further Land.

Don’t long for death

For death

Is death.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes.

He breathed his last, a peaceful sigh.

He longed for death

That was his doom,

Leading to his final ruin.

Feeling death so close, I left to see the lively world.

Out on the porch was a little girl:

Bows and buttons, ribbons and curls.

So far from death

No death for me

Just life to see.

This little girl stared at the sky.

She breathed a little dreaming sigh.

“What do you wish, girl?” quoth I.

A moment of contemplation, then a reply,

“I long for death;

For death, you see,

Is life to me.”

I in frustration clutched my head.

How horrid!  That one so young wished herself dead!

“You have life, wish not for death instead!

Family, future, friends; husband, children, homestead…

Don’t long for death,

For death

Is death!”

Their point of view seemed so deranged,

‘Gainst all I’d heard of the world’s familiar strain.

But after that day I began to hear a new refrain

More ancient than the world’s beat and bang,

“O long for death;

For death, you see,

Is life to me.”

How strange, but true, the point did ring

That now I hear the angels sing

A Saviour came, the oddest thing,

Who by His blood Salvation brings.

He changed death;

And death by Him,

Is life to me.

So wrong before, but now I say,

O I proclaim it all the day,

“I long for death;

For death, you see,

Is life to me.”