Please do not consign me to the fate of
Unless you are conspiring how to
hasten my demise,
Don’t force-feed me a flatscreen
in front of my ailing eyes.
Just plug me into music
like Gaithers’ gospel songs of old,
Or David Jeremiah,
as he preaches words of gold.
My soul will be contented,
and the tension melt away,
And I will feel God’s presence and know
He’s with me all the way,
If ever I am bedfast,
and you want to comfort me,
Just turn off the commotion
and shine some "light" on me.
"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine:
but a broken spirit drieth the bones."