So this is death -- these harrowing things,
Room of light -- angels’ wings,
Noise and tumult, beating loud --
Wings surround me, creatures wild.
Bright light opens all within,
Showing faults and failures -- sin.
My soul turns over, heart on fire,
So this is death, this funeral pyre.
Gabriel aims his deadly dart
And pierces through my beating heart.
Thunderous music, unending pain
This then is death, and birth again.
Then blessedly, the tumult dies
I float above unseeing eyes,
Sudden quiet -- some new place
Streams of water, hills of grace,
There stands the Lord of Glory, come
To gather in this poor poor crumb.