When last I stand beside my body, when relieved I lay it down.
What will others say about me? With what words my deeds will crown?
Will they mock? Gloating rejoice? And curse my corpse in spiteful glee?
Well – so did they too to Jesus: mocking, bigot Pharisee.
Will they weep with deep regret? Mourn the chances dead and gone?
Only pagans with no hope of heaven sing this heavy song.
Will they bless with gratitude the years they knew and talked with me?
May it be so. So we too shall meet up in eternity.
Yet it matters not if they me bless or curse: I lie at ease!
For all I did was but before an audience of One to please.