Sunday, April 29, 2012

A Linguist Contemplates the Afterlife


Now, one or two of you might’ve maybe’ve noticed, that from time to time -- when the spirit takes me -- I let loose a comment or two  about Christian theology and Christian living.   These comments may or may not make sense -- half the time, I’ve had a few.  But fact is:  Not a one of us can avoid -- no matter how much TV we watch and stuff our brain with  in the meantime -- nary a one of us can keep from staring Mister Death, there, right in the face:  when our time comes.

So -- whether you’re a priest, or an atheist, or just a ramblin’ gamblin’ man, time comes, you’re gonna wonder about that thing (if it even is a thing) they call the Afterlife.   We have -- from time to time -- touched upon that matter here:

Funny thing about the Afterlife -- any one of us might be a sight lot closer to finding out about it, than we rightly reckon.   And for an old man like me, whose heart is still ticking, but which sometimes fails to tock -- well, any time the doorbell rings, I have to wonder:  Is it those Seventh-Days again, or is it the Guy with the Scythe ???

Fact is -- Don’t worry about it much.  Seems I trust in my Maker more deeply in my heart, than ever I can in my fretful, sinful mind.  But - be - that - as it may.  All we really need to know, in this life here below -- me ‘n’ you ‘n’ Sister Sue -- is summarized  right fine  right here:

"O Death" (Ralph Stanley)
"O-oh Death -- won't you spairrr me over till another year."



~


This frame of clay which Thou hast shaped
and quickened with Thine inblown Word,
a cloak about my spirit draped:
Mold it a little longer, Lord.

            For that I feel  the flesh grow slack,
            the inward wind  begin to leak,
            the cloak grow threadbare  on my back,
            and life's flame  gutter  on the wick.

Thou didst a sand-glass  but upend
when in the world  Thou sent'st abroad
the life  Thou didst not give,  but lend:
Lend it a little longer, Lord.

            For that  the very time grows nigh
            wherein, obedient to their fate,
            my father, and his before, did die:
            Oh Lord, do not advance the date!

Nay let me live, that with these days
I might yet pray, and pen thy praise.

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