A Poem On Death Poem by David Mitchell

My death approaches closer every second;
Time hastens on, and I am filled with fear;
I know not when my ending shall be reckoned,
The latest moment of my latest year:

I do not know the day or month or hour;
It may come sooner or it may come late;
Our life is short, just like a blooming flower,
That withered at its appointed date:

Precious the moments that we have to live in,
Each instant is worth more by far than gold;
Time is to love, to serve, to die, to give in,
And death comes for the young and for the old.

And so I pray that then I shall be ready,
Confiding in God's mercy and His grace,
Dying with faith and hope both firm and steady,
To gaze for ever on my Saviour's Face.

29th July,2023.