Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints,

Psalm 116:15 (KJV)

A fleeting breath ascends to realms above,
The saint’s last sigh, a whisper soft and sweet,
Is cradled close by hands of endless love,
Where mortal dust and holy light shall meet.
No tear escapes His ever-watchful gaze,
Each pang, each joy, He counts as sacred gold,
The soul departs through heaven’s tender rays,
A tale of faith in death’s embrace retold.
Though earth may mourn the fading of its own,
The Lord rejoices at their journey’s end,
For precious is the seed so humbly sown,
A saint’s repose, His heart shall ever tend.
In silence deep, their deaths His glory frame,
Eternal rest, inscribed with His own name.