FIRST LETTER
Is not death a happy moment?
Tell me, brother, tell me.
To a brother,
Death indeed is a happy moment. I trust I speak in charity.
Why do I say so brother?
In death, the prisoner parts with his chains and the jailer
with his intimidations.
In death, the servant is freed from the voice of his master
and the disciple from the instructions of his teacher.
In death, we are liberated from the sorrows of tears and the
miseries of heart-break.
In death, we are inoculated with satisfaction and we cease
to lust after food or sensual pleasures.
In death we no longer hear the sound of wars neither are
we frightened by the attacks of militants.
In death, we are freed from the pains of sicknesses and the
agonies of midnight woes.
In death, the wicked cease from troubling and the weary
finds eternal rest.
In death, the small and the great lies together and the rich
and the poor sleep in a common house
In death, we cease from writing quizzes and are banned
from attending lectures.
In death, we hear nothing like singularities and poles and
we do not worry our heads over algebra and Calculus.
In death, we do not receive calls to attend interviews
neither are we promoted to serve in higher meetings.
In death, we are raided of our pride and envy as we all lie
quietly without raising any objection.
In death, friends, everything comes to a standstill as we only
clasp our hands over our chest.
The living knows he will die but the dead knows nothing at
all.
Brother, if a man has a good conscience and lives a godly
life, he would not fear death that greatly, because it is
indeed a happy moment.
LIFE AND DEATH
---Anonymous
The pleasant years that seem, so swift that run:
The merry days to end, so fast that fleet:
The joyful nights, of which day dawns so soon:
The happy hours, which we do miss, than meet,
Do all consume, as snow against the sun:
And death makes end of all, that life begun.
Since death shall dure, till all the world be waste:
What meaneth man to dread death then so sore?
As man might make, that life should always last,
Without regard, the LORD hath led before
The dance of death, which all must run on row:
Though how, or when, the LORD alone doth know.
If man would mind, what burdens life doth bring:
What grievous crimes to GOD he doth commit:
What plagues, what pangs, what perils thereby spring:
With no sure hour in all his days to sit:
He would sure think, as with great cause I do:
The day of death were better of the two.
Death is a port, whereby we pass to joy:
Life is a lake that drowneth all in pain:
Death is so dear, it ceaseth all annoy:
Life is so lewd, that all it yields is vain.
And as, by life, to bondage man is brought:
E'en so likewise by death was freedom wrought.