Poems & Readings
We Seem To Give Them Back To Thee
by Bishop Brent
We seem to give them back to Thee, 0 God who gavest them to us.
Yet as Thou didst not lose them in giving,
So do we not lose them by their return.
Not as the world giveth, givest Thou 0 Lover of souls.
What Thou givest Thou takest not away,
For what is Thine is ours also if we are thine.
And life is eternal and love is immortal,
And death is only an horizon,
And an horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, strong Son of God that we may see further;
Cleanse our eyes that we may see more clearly;
Draw us closer to Thyself
That we may know ourselves to be nearer to our loved ones
Who are with Thee.
And while Thou dost prepare a place for us,
Prepare us also for that happy place,
That where Thou art we may be also for evermore.
When I Am Dead, My Dearest
by Christina Rossetti
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget..
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember
And haply may forget.
You’ve Just Walked On Ahead Of Me
by Joyce Grenfell
You’ve just walked on ahead of me
And I’ve got to understand
You must release the ones you love
And let go of their hand.
I try and cope the best I can
But I’m missing you so much
If I could only see you
And once more feel your touch.
Yes, you’ve just walked on ahead of me
Don’t worry I’ll be fine
But now and then I swear I feel
Your hand slip into mine.
If I should die before the rest of you
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice,
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep if you must
Parting is hell.
But life goes on.
So sing as well.
Irish Blessing
by Unknown
May the roads rise up to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
May the rains fall soft upon fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
Footprints on the sands of time
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Life is but an empty dream! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, — act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.