When death comes, let him knock on my door like an expected guest.
A table set for him by my sick bed, he has not taken me by surprise.
When he comes, I'll smile and look at him like an old friend.
I'll tell him he missed a few appointments, and he'll tell me a greater force kept him at bay.
When he comes, I will tell him I have done all I can, and he will tell me I have done enough and he who sent him has set my place.
When he comes, I'll lay my head back and breathe out a long held sigh, at last my time of rest has come.