This poem is inspired by LSB #594 God’s Own Child, I Gladly Say It and Romans 6:1-5.
Open-eyed our grave is staring;
we hide the old in nursing homes.
We leave the old to their dying
whilst we linger in selfish roam.
Recipes for long life many,
still the grave catches up with us.
In Christ I have life aplenty;
therefore, in death why should I fuss?
For in Christ I have been baptised,
rising to life forevermore.
Thus, my soul has already died
to suffer judgement nevermore.
In new life that I have risen,
I do good works for my neighbour;
for because of His love crimson,
He calls me to love all others.
Still, all I do is ne’er enough,
since Jesus Christ has done it all.
Despite myself His love engulfs,
and despite all my sins I haul.
Why would God overlook such things?
Because He’s made me His dear son.
From my mouth He hears sin’s ringing
but gives me Christ’s salvation won!
Thus, when I look to my Baptism,
I recall my Father’s promise:
Upon His work of my chrism,
with death I can but be honest.
Though I shall enter my grave’s stare
and fall into its cistern deep,
a bed for me is waiting there
for Christ to wake me from my sleep.
