Death won’t come from suicide,
from quiet stream or raging tide.
Twisted metal, deadly snakes,
can’t take the soul that death forsakes.
From darkened prayer and darker sleep,
death in my bones it will not seep.
So many years of trial and pain,
yet all my strength renewed again.
Death the stranger that I seek,
from year to year and week to week.
My Lord commanded him “away,”
“go take some other soul today.”
Death is gone, the Kingdom’s far,
I watch then drift to heavens star.
So fortunate that they can see,
death in your glory – run from me.