The angel rode in slowly
On his great and mighty steed
“Another one has gone,” He said.
“His soul was never freed.”

Christ sat upon his golden throne
And looked Michael in the eye.
“Did he suffer much, my friend,
When it was time for him to die?”

“He went without a thought towards you,
Only thoughts of pain,
Old memories of things he’d done,
A life filled with disdain.”

“I truly wish he’d known me,”
The Lord held back a tear.
“I could have brought him hope and peace,
I could have brought him cheer.

Every time they choose a path
Wider than my own,
Every time they turn away
And spurn the seeds I’ve sown,

I feel like I’ve died again
Like I died that horrid day.
But I’d die a thousand times or more
To bring all who’ve gone astray.

But of course, it’s all been finished.
I did it once for all.
The trumpets are now blaring,
If they’d only heed the call…”

Saint Michael, the archangel,
Looked upon his king
“What is there to do for him,
Now that he’s felt death’s sting?”

Christ took his royal scepter,
hooked and made of wood,
the keys of hades on his belt
jangled as he stood.

“There’s only one thing to be done—
Return to the battleground.
Please watch the ninety-nine for me,
while this lost sheep is found.”

‍