When the Reaper Comes

A poem written for my step father before he died.

When the reaper comes to claim the life that he thinks is his

                And you’re lying there about to take his hand,

Love and hope crosses even the widest distances

                And prayers are prayed all across the land.

 

Sent up to Heaven, with words of pleading

                And of praise to the One who died

Hoping that He will be the one to cease your fleeting

                And give more time to here abide.

 

But when your breathing turns shallow

                And we become fearful,

We know our prayers are lain fallow,

                 And God is given earful.

 

But He knows there’s a greater gift to be given,

                Extending not your endless suffering, 

And belaying the hand of the reaper,

 His Son Jesus Christ is coming because you have been forgiven,

                To bring you into His heavenly covering,

                                And the peace that fills your heart will be ever deeper.

 

So I pray you fear not,

                Because the hand you are giving

Is to He who will not mock,

                And the land you are entering is one beyond your wildest wishing.