If This Is Where I Must Die
(A Declaration Of The Last Breath Of The Old Man)
If this is where I must die,
Then let me die well.
Let me die willingly.
Let me die empty of myself and full of the hope
That when this old man breathes his last,
A better man will breathe for me.
If this is where I must die,
Then let the scourging have its perfect work.
Let truth tear through every disguise,
Every hidden motive,
Every stubborn place in me that refuses to yield.
If exposure is what frees me,
Then expose me to the bone.
If this is where I must die,
Then let the crown of thorns take its rightful place.
Let every proud thought,
All self-made wisdom,
Every argument I hold against the mind of God
Be crushed beneath the weight of that crown.
Let the blood that ran down His brow
Wash the last of my own reasoning away.
If this is where I must die,
Then let me feel the cross I have carried.
Let the weight of my self-will grow so heavy
That I collapse into the arms of the One
Who carried His cross for me.
And if another must be compelled to walk beside me,
Let me not resent their strength
But rejoice that God has sent help.
If this is where I must die,
Then strip me of everything the flesh depends on.
Strip me of the masks I wear,
The roles I hide behind,
The images I defend,
The excuses I manufacture.
Let nothing clothe the old man
Except the cross that will take him down.
If this is where I must die,
Then drive the nails deep.
Pin down the habits that once stirred me,
The impulses that once drove me,
The desires that once deceived me.
Let my hands that once reached for sin,
And my feet that once ran from God,
Be nailed still
Under the authority of Christ.
If this is where I must die,
Then lift me from the ground
And shake loose every last prop of my own strength.
Let every joint of self-reliance be dislocated.
Let every crutch snap.
Let every earthly support fall away
Until I hang on nothing but the mercy of God.
If this is where I must die,
Then let the suffocation finish its work.
Let the old man gasp and fail,
Finding no air for pride,
No breath for rebellion,
No oxygen for sin.
Let the flesh grow too weak to rise again.
Let each breath be shorter,
So the Spirit may finally breathe for me.
If this is where I must die,
Then pierce the heart that deceived me.
Drive the spear through every false affection,
Every corrupt desire,
Every crooked intention.
Let the blood and water flow,
The cleansing that proves the old heart has stopped beating.
Give me the heart of flesh You promised,
And bury the heart of stone I carried.
If this is where I must die,
Then let there be stillness.
Let the struggle cease.
Let the voice of the old man fall silent.
Let the throne of my soul sit vacant
So Christ may take His seat.
Let self have no future.
Let flesh have no strength.
Let the old me have no resurrection.
If this is where I must die,
Let this be holy ground.
Let angels stand witness.
Let Heaven record it.
Let Hell tremble.
Let grace rejoice.
For when the dying is done,
When the old man lies still at the foot of this cross,
Then Lord Jesus,
You may rise in me.
For if this is where I must die,
Then this is where You must live.
Galatians 2:20 I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me, and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.
~Pastor Gary Caudill
All Rights Reserved
Published on 11-18-2025
Then let me die well.
Let me die willingly.
Let me die empty of myself and full of the hope
That when this old man breathes his last,
A better man will breathe for me.
If this is where I must die,
Then let the scourging have its perfect work.
Let truth tear through every disguise,
Every hidden motive,
Every stubborn place in me that refuses to yield.
If exposure is what frees me,
Then expose me to the bone.
If this is where I must die,
Then let the crown of thorns take its rightful place.
Let every proud thought,
All self-made wisdom,
Every argument I hold against the mind of God
Be crushed beneath the weight of that crown.
Let the blood that ran down His brow
Wash the last of my own reasoning away.
If this is where I must die,
Then let me feel the cross I have carried.
Let the weight of my self-will grow so heavy
That I collapse into the arms of the One
Who carried His cross for me.
And if another must be compelled to walk beside me,
Let me not resent their strength
But rejoice that God has sent help.
If this is where I must die,
Then strip me of everything the flesh depends on.
Strip me of the masks I wear,
The roles I hide behind,
The images I defend,
The excuses I manufacture.
Let nothing clothe the old man
Except the cross that will take him down.
If this is where I must die,
Then drive the nails deep.
Pin down the habits that once stirred me,
The impulses that once drove me,
The desires that once deceived me.
Let my hands that once reached for sin,
And my feet that once ran from God,
Be nailed still
Under the authority of Christ.
If this is where I must die,
Then lift me from the ground
And shake loose every last prop of my own strength.
Let every joint of self-reliance be dislocated.
Let every crutch snap.
Let every earthly support fall away
Until I hang on nothing but the mercy of God.
If this is where I must die,
Then let the suffocation finish its work.
Let the old man gasp and fail,
Finding no air for pride,
No breath for rebellion,
No oxygen for sin.
Let the flesh grow too weak to rise again.
Let each breath be shorter,
So the Spirit may finally breathe for me.
If this is where I must die,
Then pierce the heart that deceived me.
Drive the spear through every false affection,
Every corrupt desire,
Every crooked intention.
Let the blood and water flow,
The cleansing that proves the old heart has stopped beating.
Give me the heart of flesh You promised,
And bury the heart of stone I carried.
If this is where I must die,
Then let there be stillness.
Let the struggle cease.
Let the voice of the old man fall silent.
Let the throne of my soul sit vacant
So Christ may take His seat.
Let self have no future.
Let flesh have no strength.
Let the old me have no resurrection.
If this is where I must die,
Let this be holy ground.
Let angels stand witness.
Let Heaven record it.
Let Hell tremble.
Let grace rejoice.
For when the dying is done,
When the old man lies still at the foot of this cross,
Then Lord Jesus,
You may rise in me.
For if this is where I must die,
Then this is where You must live.
Galatians 2:20 I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me, and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.
~Pastor Gary Caudill
All Rights Reserved
Published on 11-18-2025