Outside Christ, I'd have none left.
Even on the nine hundred and ninety-nine before this one, yet there is still one left.
Thinner becomes the air as I prepare to transition from life to there.
I have to put off this flesh.
I have to get it done before my last breath.
One thousand deaths came and left.
No real loss as eternity was the gain.
Never worry about seeing death ever again.
Take things in stride in life, focusing on trying to live right no matter the loss suffered in this life.
I'm going to put winning off to seize long life.
Got no win worth winning to boast of in this life.
Abiding in Him to reside with Him in the light.
Don't become entangled with the cares of this life.
Peace be still He'll reveal all malice, ill-intentions, ill-will, and strife.
So what if men thought you were killed.
Live on in Christ dead to the feels of attempts by men to steal.
If any man die one time in Him, he shall live.
If it takes nine hundred and ninety-nine deaths to submit your will, do so because some lay assuming a day would come. Instead come hearsts, broken earth, ashes squared, shovels, and dirt.
There's one life to live worth dying for.
Why assume you'll get nine hundred and ninety-nine more? Cherish the day.
New mercies given.
Give God the right of way.
There's only one life worth living.
One's death is enough.
Nine hundred ninety-nine more without Christ, don't press your luck.
One thousand deaths without the resurrection being an option, adoption can happen if abba Father is your confession.
Don't gamble on new mercy receive grace by faith now.
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Comments about this poem (1,000 Deaths by Timothy Branch )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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