The Woods of the Shadow of Death

In Humanities 101, we memorized John Donne's Holy Sonnet X . I no longer can quote the whole thing, yet I often find the opening and closing lines running through my mind. Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. ... One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. Audrey Assad has done a beautiful musical adaptation of this poem. It's utterly appropriate right now. This year has brought the death of several dear saints, and while I rejoice for them ending their races well, I mourn for our loss. Saturday (morning in the US, evening in China) brought the horrific news of a shooting at a synagogue in Pittsburgh . While shootings in America have become a sickeningly common occurrence in my own living memory, there's something especially awful to me about this one,