Death Be Not Proud

Oh death, be not proud Oh grave, be not shallow, For outreaching your darkened hand And refusing a boy to become a man. Oh grave, I feel your sting And death, I hear you sing, From the lives that you did take From the lives that we gave. Oh grave, be not prideful For taking the little child, Refusing them yet to grow Unto the adults, that they will never know. Death be not proud Stop being boisterous and loud, For arriving like a thief Then to fill the mind with your grief. Death be not here Do not bring your pain and fear, Depression is your toll When you break the heart, and steal the soul. Death be not proud Pain be not allowed, Grave be not victorious And sorrow, be not continuous. Randy L. McClave