FEW THERE BE THAT FIND IT
Death is so final,
A last breath--
It's done.
Allotted days cease.
Earth gives up s son.
Now what says that soul
Sequestered from view,
As we mourn at his casket:
What's lie and what's true?
Did he really make heaven
As plaudits rise skyward?
Or in hell does he clamor
For us to avoid it?
Of reading what God says,
But not heeding its truth?
Comes no word from below?
Abraham said long ago:
"They have Moses, the prophets;
Though one come from the dead,
If they hear not Eternal,
Hells' words they won't dread.
He walked a lie,
So, no truth comes from hell.
We'll follow tradition,
Words we know well.
Empty words, lifeless
Our deafened ears hearing,
Not moved by truth,
Death's knell never fearing.
From there does he cry?
For him it's too late!
You still have 'today.'
Why, then, do you wait?
Will they stand round your bier
And sing praise to your name
Though it's hell where you languish
And cry in it's flame?
Repent of your sins,
Are you ready or not?
Is Jesus your Lord
Or will hell be your lot?