Dead Man Walking'

Took my newspaper down to the cemetery last week, Set up my soapbox and I commenced to speak. I read to them of bombing overseas, An article about the discovery of a new disease. I read of a robbery on a downtown street, And a tale of the homeless with so little to eat. Told the folks about the wall street dive, And how the local sports team is finally coming alive. Of five new babies born just yesterday. Then I read a notice for tryouts for the high school play. That there's a big sale on jeans at the mall, And the fact that three local teens had answered their country's call. Do you know how they responded there? SILENCE' It seemed that no one cared' Some of the entombed had died in the war; A few mangled wreck of a speeding car. Pestilence had claimed the life of several others, And abortion had separated babies from mothers. The grandiose markers show who had enjoyed prosperity, While other inscriptions speak of integrity. Many simply grew old and had passed away, But, once in the grave, none had any more to say. Be they saint or be they sinner, Not one could arise and go home for dinner. The events of my world-oh, so wearisome to me, Have no effect on a dead man evidently. So what good is worry? What profit in fear? I am crucified with Christ and He draws me near. In Him I experience Heaven's greatest delights, For I'm a dead man walking by faith, not by sight' Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.) March 6, 2006