If I should die

If I should die, grieve not for youth
   Blighted, and towers of hope that fell;
God lives and sees, His word is truth,
   And in His hands to die is well.

Nor think my life a tree that grew
   Awry: my few but flowing days
So filled with gifts, but chiefly two,
   Are missals of my Maker’s praise.

So do not curse the God who took
   And gave, nor burn on my behalf,
But dry your tears, and closer look,
   And write my grateful epitaph.

Write: He whom death took early off
   Was one – this much I think was mine –
Drank somewhat deep of human love
   Nor wholly missed the love Divine

Poems of War

Poems of the Spirit