Only one hundred and thirty.
My age is but a passing shadow,
the years of my life have been few.
My fathers Abraham and Isaac
were old men and full of days.
Soon I shall be gathered to them.
I have seen evil along life's way,
a brother's murderous intent,
an uncle's devious schemes,
the bickering of jealous wives,
Rachel buried, Joseph lost.
All things seemed against me,
but now I have embraced my
beast-torn son I shall die in peace.
God turned all evil to good
to save many people alive.
I am a stranger and pilgrim
and my journey nears its end.
Bury me in the land of my fathers,
the dust dry Canaan that will
one day flow with milk and honey.
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