A house may be weak, but a tent is still weaker.
Death is a dissolving of our tent,
Death is a loosing of the tent frame, and then it falls down.
Our bodies are not castles & towers that you have to blow up to take down
Our bodies don’t have to be battered down by heavy force
Our bodies aren’t even ordinary houses that have to be pulled down with a strong hand.
Our bodies are tents, all that has to happen is for the inner cords to be loosed
The pins that hold the ropes are pulled up & immediately the tent of our physical life lies down
Three hundreds year ago. Thomas Boston’s tent was loosed
Our bodies are so weak. Without the air we draw in with are mouths our bodies collapse
Everyones tent stakes will be pulled-up. This is a fact: our tent will be loosed.
A tornado rips through a town
A opportunistic virus breaches a cell wall and collapses a life
Every second the curse on Adam is proved true.
Our tent is daily in danger.
Our house is very weak,
We’re in danger daily & hourly.
It’s valuable to be constantly reminded of our frailties
The slightest storm can blow it down,
The smallest breeze can do it.
We walk among swords, daggers & bullets,
We can stumble into a highway and find our end
Even walking under a tree & small apple landing on our head
We’re in danger from within.
There are numerous disorders to undermine our tent.
There are small seeds carrying millions of deaths to our mortal bodies;
sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly but the tent is being undermined,
with any number of things that will make it fall down in a heap.
The seeds of diseases, are digging like moles under the skin walls of our tent,
Destruction is working as the bones weaken & joints inflame
The great weight in measuring of life as this tent
will be pulled down & our tent will collapse