There is a trait in the human race,
when that reaper shows his face,
to end our life its earthly glow,
that makes us fight not to go.
So maybe I should ask before I rest,
Am I afraid of who gave me breath,
And them who smile and cling no longer,
are they the weaker or the stronger,
And what would I myself really do,
When my life is close to being through?
Would I cling to what I have now here,
and cleave onto what I hold as dear?
And the Holy Spirit, is he my friend,
Or out of guilt and fear do I pretend,
Would I peacefully go without a fight,
to face what is and face what might,
And have I prayed without a shout,
singing hymns, smile my way to heaven
as I taste that bread unleavened?
So with these questions still at bay,
Until the answers come one day
I best I get me a better testimony,
to I fear not, or be a phony,
so when my life is severed,
in heaven I shall live forever.