For the Love of Ruth*

It is not me that they've laid to rest.
I am not that which lies in sleep
Among the bed of roses deep.
And though they linger long and weep
O'er that which once I was, they seek
Me where I am not.

Not here I'll find my final rest,
But flown away on angel's wings
To heavenly fields where I will sing
Of Him who died for me and rose again
And healed me with a crimson stain --
My Savior and my Lord

My soul long rescued from this shell,
Whisked away to lighter plains
Where no more sorrow nor terror reigns,
Where cloudless days neither wax nor wane
And sunlight rules o'er all supreme --
At last at home with God.

© rno 8-18-2005 St. Louis, Mo.

* "Why do you look for the living among the dead? " Luke 24: 5