This is what I like to think is my best poem. I can't […]
Death, so fierce, so wild,
Crushes us, and Satan smiled.
For he knew we were afraid,
Depressed by the strike Death had made.
The strike fell suddenly,
A cold swept o’er unfeelingly,
And with it came great distress;
We thought: “Comfort I can’t possess.”
Then reminded, look at
The Lᴏʀᴅ’s Resurrection, whereat
He banished Death and Satan,
Gave Life to His faithful children.
On the Last day shall we
Be raised to Heav’n, while Death shall flee.
So e’en now, Death holds no pow’r,
Is not feared in that mournful hour.
Amen!
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