The Dispatcher
The army of Time is marching here,
To mingle with our present dear;
To give, to take, to twist and change
A present we cannot arrange.
The army is masked under cloak and hood
To hide their secrets, lest we should
Pry into the future in order to see
What was not revealed in prophecy.
Yet one man we know—his name is Death,
A masterly expert at knocking out breath;
With a cry of “Rally ‘round my banner, men!”
Death the dispatcher slaughters and then--
But what is next? Where do we go?
To Charon the boatman, and pay him to row?
To Odin’s Valhalla, to fight and swear?
Or to the grave, and great nowhere?
Listen to what Dispatcher said
With the call to rally ‘round their head:
He said, as I heard, “Give them hell!”
I know the truth of this quite well.
They go to their hell completely free
To suffer there eternally.
It happens thus for all who sin;
To heaven no such enter in.
The torment of hell is full and complete
Confounding curses are how they greet
The burning of body, heart, and soul
Of all not written on the scroll.
But those whose names are in this book
Referenced by Death with downcast look,
Death does not condemn to burn
For here and now they had their turn.
Here and now they suffered long
At evil hands enduring wrong.
But why and how? How can this be?
The blood of Jesus set them free!
Christ has suffered in their stead;
On the cross he wounded bled,
And bore the wrath that they deserved
That from this hell they’d be preserved.
Though Death slay them, heaven-bound
They rise while laid into the ground
And fly to the city of God above
Where all that is and was is love!
Their sufferings on earth are counted naught
In light of the wonder God has wrought.
They stand awaiting death in calm,
And are martyred as they sing a psalm.
They stand embanked on the rock of God
When others fall on sand and sod,
For Christ, the solid Rock upholds,
Their sure defense as time unfolds.
This scorpian Death has lost his sting
And Grave is gone in their triumphing,
So reader, go and join the band
That journeys to the promised land!
The Dispatcher; Copyright © 2013 by Caleb
To mingle with our present dear;
To give, to take, to twist and change
A present we cannot arrange.
The army is masked under cloak and hood
To hide their secrets, lest we should
Pry into the future in order to see
What was not revealed in prophecy.
Yet one man we know—his name is Death,
A masterly expert at knocking out breath;
With a cry of “Rally ‘round my banner, men!”
Death the dispatcher slaughters and then--
But what is next? Where do we go?
To Charon the boatman, and pay him to row?
To Odin’s Valhalla, to fight and swear?
Or to the grave, and great nowhere?
Listen to what Dispatcher said
With the call to rally ‘round their head:
He said, as I heard, “Give them hell!”
I know the truth of this quite well.
They go to their hell completely free
To suffer there eternally.
It happens thus for all who sin;
To heaven no such enter in.
The torment of hell is full and complete
Confounding curses are how they greet
The burning of body, heart, and soul
Of all not written on the scroll.
But those whose names are in this book
Referenced by Death with downcast look,
Death does not condemn to burn
For here and now they had their turn.
Here and now they suffered long
At evil hands enduring wrong.
But why and how? How can this be?
The blood of Jesus set them free!
Christ has suffered in their stead;
On the cross he wounded bled,
And bore the wrath that they deserved
That from this hell they’d be preserved.
Though Death slay them, heaven-bound
They rise while laid into the ground
And fly to the city of God above
Where all that is and was is love!
Their sufferings on earth are counted naught
In light of the wonder God has wrought.
They stand awaiting death in calm,
And are martyred as they sing a psalm.
They stand embanked on the rock of God
When others fall on sand and sod,
For Christ, the solid Rock upholds,
Their sure defense as time unfolds.
This scorpian Death has lost his sting
And Grave is gone in their triumphing,
So reader, go and join the band
That journeys to the promised land!
The Dispatcher; Copyright © 2013 by Caleb
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"Hell would be a kind of paradise if it were no worse than the worst of this world." ~John Bunyan