I have bad news to tell you
As he stood by my bed
Now try not to worry
He went on and said
You have a bad illness
A disease of great dread
We’ve no treatment or cure
Except confinement to bed
It’s invaded your body
Each cell, white and red
Your prognosis is hopeless
I just dropped my head
Don’t look for a remedy
Your silver bullet is lead
Optimism is useless
Try surrender instead
He left me in tears
All my fears he had fed
Watched the news the next morning
The doctor was dead
Never fear the prognosis
Trust God’s life giving bread
Eternal life is yours
Trust the blood that was shed
Luke 12:20 But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?
Hebrews 9:27 And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment: