Poems & Readings
My Candle Burns At Both Ends
by Edna St.Vincent Millay
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends;
It gives a lovely light!
Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep
by Mary Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there.
I did not die.
Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep
by Bishop Brent
A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon
and someone at my side says She is gone
Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all.
She is just as large now as when I last saw her.
Her diminished size and total loss from my sight is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says she is gone
There are others who are watching her coming over their horizon
And other voices take up a glad shout There she comes!
That is what dying is.
An horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, Oh Lord, that we may see further
God’s Garden
by Unknown
God looked around his garden
And found an empty place,
He then looked down upon the earth
And saw your tired face.
He put his arms around you
And lifted you to rest.
God’s garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
He knew that you were suffering
He knew you were in pain.
He knew that you would never
Get well on earth again.
He saw the road was getting rough
And the hills were hard to climb.
So he closed your weary eyelids
And whispered, ‘Peace be Thine’.
It broke our hearts to lose you
But you didn’t go alone,
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home.
A Reflection on an Autumn Day
by Unknown
I took up a handful of grain and let it slip flowing through my fingers,
and I said to myself, This is what it is all about.
There is no longer any room for pretense.
At harvest time the essence is revealed – the straw and chaff are set aside,
they have done their job.
The grain alone matters – sacks of pure gold.
So it is when a person dies the essence of that person is revealed.
At the moment of death a person’s character stands out happy