The night when they said, “The child is a boy!”
Perish the day. At least,
While at Abraham’s feast,
I think they thought that when I left. Was there joy?

No one will write my tombstone’s epitaph
I will not know the dog of war or puppy love
I will not appear in a photograph
I will not write an elegy for her I love

No one will write an elegy for me
For I and He who loves me have eternal life.
I pray that those who sent me off will see
That I meant no harm to them, who took up the knife.

I will never appear on a magazine
No one will know my name
No fifteen-minute fame
But I’ll always hear the herald angel sing.

But those who sent me off may one day yet atone
Those who sent for and handled that dread knife
May they never so much as sniff the Great White Throne
May they live out their days with gladness, joy, and life.

“All creatures of our God and King” may they proclaim
With joy in the house of Him who loves me.
At the Place of the Skull may they find His true name
May they heed this: “The Truth will set you free.”

He stands at the door; so wrote a wise man’s pen.
Please, please, answer the knock
Ascend His Holy Rock
So that I might say to you, “Hello again.”