GO DOWN DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, July 31st, 2006Weep not, weep not,
Malik is not dead;
he’s resting in the bosom of Jesus.
Heart-broken husband–weep no more;
Grief-stricken daughter–weep no more;
Left-lonesome mother –weep no more;
Malik’s only just gone home.Day before yesterday morning,
God was looking down from His great, high heaven,
Looking down on all His children,
And His eye fell on Brother Malik,
Tossing on his bed of pain.
And God’s big heart was touched with pity,
With the everlasting pity.And God sat back on His throne,
And He commanded that tall, bright angel
standing at His right hand:
Call me Death!
And that tall, bright angel cried in a voice
That broke like a clap of thunder:
Call Death!–Call Death!
And the echo sounded down the streets of heaven
Till it reached a way back to that shadowy place,
Where Death waits with his pale, white horses.And Death heard the summons,
And he leaped on his fastest horse,
Pale as a sheet in the moonlight.
Up the golden Street Death galloped,
And the hooves of his horses struck fire from the gold,
But they didn’t make no sound.
Up Death rode to the Great White Throne,
And waited for God’s command.And God said: Go down, Death,
Go down to the Wasatch mountain range,
Down to Salt Lake City, Utah,
Down to Redwood road, into Studio 35,
He’s laying slumped in a cold dark corner,
bring me Brother Malik,he’s borne the burden and heat of the day,
he’s labored long in my vineyard,
And he’s tired–
he’s weary–
Go down, Death, and bring Malik to me.And Death didn’t say a word,
But he loosed the reins on his pale, white horse,
And he clamped the spurs to his bloodless sides,
And out and down he rode,
Through heaven’s pearly gates,
Past suns and moons and stars;
on Death rode,
Leaving the lightning’s flash behind;
Straight down he came.While we were watching round Malik’s bed,
he turned his eyes and looked away,
he saw what we couldn’t see;
he saw Old Death. He saw Old Death
Coming like a falling star.
But Death didn’t frighten Brother Malik;
He looked to him like a welcome friend.
And he whispered to us: I’m going home,
And he smiled and closed his eyes.And Death took him up like a baby,
And he lay in his icy arms,
But he didn’t feel no chill.
And Death began to ride again–
Up beyond the evening star,
Into the glittering light of glory,
On to the Great White Throne.
And there he laid Brother Malik
On the loving breast of Jesus.And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away his tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from his face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked Malik in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.Weep not–weep not,
Malik is not dead;
he’s resting in the bosom of Jesus.
