Who among us knows pain,
If not one and all?
And who is it who will be our comforter,
When in the dead of night we call?

Who has suffered more or less,
And who is it who will stand in your stead,
When the coroner knocks on your door at night,
To tell you that your child is dead?

Who can bear the merciless pain,
Of a captor under darkened hood;
He of ruthless cruelty could free you,
If it were only that he would.

Do I fear pain at death?
I answer that I do not.
Free my spirit from this broken body,
And leave the flesh to rot.

Your pain is mine when I love you,
And this is as it should be,
For it has always been the unfettered love of another,
Given unto God to set your spirit free.

You see, it is the anguish of the spirit,
Which mightily trumps agony of the flesh,
And when it is that we are finally taken home,
It is then that our spirits will rest.

So I say unto Thee, Almighty One,
That I’ll bear the surgeon’s knife,
And all else that Ye lay before me,
As I quietly live my life,
But for those who have lived to suffer,
The loss of someone they love,
May I open my spirit-filled heart to them,
And share Your strength from above.