BID ME FAREWELL
O World, I will not miss you
when I go
O Flesh, I’ll leave you mouldering
here below;
The world is but a dust speck
on the scales
The flesh rots back to dust
when it fails.
But I, I will fly free, forever
fully me
My hidden life with Christ now lived
openly;
And you three—world, flesh, devil—were
just my slaves:
Fire to burn the dross, waters to wash me
in the waves.
Bid me farewell, for it is you three
who will die;
I shall live in love beyond the
bright blue sky.
Should I thank you for the evils that God
worked for good?
You were just the scaffolding on which the
Sculptor stood.
By Kristen Sykes