Woe, the Prophet writes, is me.
For I am lost.
I cannot, my future see.
My heart is held in frost.We are always  worried.
Everything seems too much, with no reason or rhyme.
But then I saw the churchyard where I will be buried.
I don’t know when, soon or later, sometime.Compared to those endless silent years.
What do all these worries matter.
Then there will be no laughter or tears.
Only a body to bury or ashes to scatter.But with luck the soul will live.
And in God’s presence thrive.…….

He says woe is me
Isaiah says he is lost
But still does live

…….

See Isaiah 6