Death Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

So, in English class we had been studying this poem. I really like poetry and this poem really speaks to my heart. It makes me realize that I shouldn't be afraid of death. Jesus conquered death when He rose from the grave on the third day. Besides death is just like sleeping, except that when you wake up the first face you'll see will be Jesus's face. Can't wait to see Him!