They Died Well. How Would We Handle the Plague?

DA Carson . . .

	The Puritans published sermons and books on how to die well; they cherished collected "last words" of Christians who had already gone to be with the Lord. But today we find it exceedingly difficult to look death squarely in the face and talk about it. Consider this 1593 poem, written by Thomas Nashe an Elizabethan author of no great repute who penned these lines, possibly his best, when he along with hundreds of thousands of others contracted the plague and lay on their deathbed. ADIEU, farewell earth's bliss! This world uncertain is: Fond are life's lustful joys, Death proves them all but toys. None from his darts can fly; I am sick, I must die-- ----Lord, have mercy on us! Rich men, trust not in wealth, Gold cannot buy you health; Physic himself must fade; All things to end are made; The plague full swift goes by; I am sick, I must die-- ----Lord, have mercy on us! Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath closed Helen's eye; I am sick, I must die-- ----Lord, have mercy on us! Strength stoops unto the grave, Worms feed on Hector brave; Swords may not fight with fate; Earth still holds ope her gate; Come, come! the bells do cry; I am sick, I must die-- ----Lord, have mercy on us! Wit with his wantonness Tasteth death's bitterness; Hell's executioner Hath no ears for to hear What vain art can reply; I am sick, I must die-- ----Lord, have mercy on us! Haste therefore each degree To welcome destiny; Heaven is our heritage, Earth but a player's stage. Mount we unto the sky; I am sick, I must die-- ----Lord, have mercy on us! It is hard to imagine a modern writer facing death so openly. We are more likely to lionize Dylan Thomas's counsel to his dying father: "Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Indeed, after we have accepted our place in God's world and grasped the desperate realities of sin and it's consequences, rage may still be called for. But Dylan Thomas's rage is not called for. He still wants to be the center of the universe, and is frustrated to the point of rage that he cannot be. Contrast Nashe. His refrain faces openly: "I am sick, I must die". And he perceives that in God's universe there is only one possible prayer to follow this unavoidable reality: "Lord, have mercy on us!"
From:	How Long O Lord, Reflections on Suffering and Evil