O Death, you wait to see if I succumb
As woefulness invades my weakened form.
You wish to snatch my breath before the storm
While I am still dejected, sad, and glum.
My face conceals the woe I hold inside,
A sense of sadness brought by somber days.
My pain at times obscures my songs of praise,
And so, it seems to you, my faith has died.
You've erred in thinking I have given up;
You have ignored the vows I freely made.
My promises will not remain unpaid;
I will endure despite my bitter cup.
So then, O Death, the gloom you see in me
Is not because I fear your hand or grave.
For even if you cage the life you crave,
The One I serve has always held the key.