How blest the righteous are
When they resign their breath!
No wonder Balaam wished to share
In such a happy death.
Oh! let me die, said he,
The death the righteous do;
When life is ended let me be
Found with the faithful few.
The force of truth how great!
When enemies confess,
None but the righteous whom they hate,
A solid hope possess.
But Balaam's wish was vain,
His heart was insincere;
He thirsted for unrighteous gain,
And sought a portion here.
He seemed the Lord to know,
And to offend him loth;
But Mammon proved his overthrow,
For none can serve them both.
May you, my friends, and I,
Warning from hence receive;
If like the righteous we would die,
To choose the life they live.
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Comments about this poem (Balaam's Wish by John Newton )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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