The
house is dark,
The
bedroom light is out,
And
the nightshade is drawn.
In the bed he lays,
With
the blanket of God
Pulled
over him.
He is asleep in the Lord.
He is dead in the world.
He no longer exists.
What once was, does not last.
The
worms will try,
But
won’t be satisfied.
His
body will not be enough for the grave,
Which
cries out for more.
He
suffered little,
But
caused much,
And
will find his.
He was a prince in his dreams
With plans that now
Come to nothing.
In life he craved for the passions
Of
the love of this world,
But
for all that,
The
world now ejects him,
And
yet, folds him into her own dread.
What once accompanied him
That
was named Hope,
He
never acknowledged,
And
now a transformation to Despair
Has
been accomplished,
And
it reaches out and grips him
With
ten thousand hands.
No
escape is possible.
Who was this man?
Who is this that now
Is in destined damnation?
Without
Jesus Christ…
He
is me.
Without
Jesus Christ…
The
face revealed
To
you, is you.
In
life, receive Jesus Christ
As
the Son of God.
Then
with hope,
Be
destined into glory,
And
then you will never know, this darkness
Of
sins’ reward.
