I am old and getting older.
My frame is frail and fire flickering.
My body speaks of leaving,
But what of me?
The body is all I have known.
My soul and spirit have been quite at home
What we have known of living
Has come by the body’s telling.
When I go hence,
And dust reclaims this house,
I will look to You,
For it was You who lit my flame.
The body didn’t give me life,
Nor shall its demise
Claim my life.
You are the font of my being.
Those who seek to love the world,
And those who choose the self apart from God,
Finally find they worship a needy god,
Who has not the power to meet their needs.
Before my parting,
My course will be marked,
Drawn by my choices and loves.
In death, may I further pursue my Love.
You are familiar to me in a homey way.
We have lived together all these years,
And I will recognize Your Voice
When You call me home.
No fear, no sudden fury,
Shall stop my pilgrim stride,
Or bend my will,
Long bent on You.
What of me?
I would not know myself.
Call to me and I will come