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All is Well
Death is nothing at all. It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we
lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way,
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort,
without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting
when we meet again!
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From a sermon delivered in 1910 by
Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918)
Canon of St. Paul's Cathedral
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“We Remember Them”
At the rising of the sun and at its
going down, we remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in
the chill of winter, we remember them.
At the opening of buds and in the
rebirth of spring, we remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the
warmth
of summer, we remember them.
At the rustling of leaves and in the
beauty of autumn, we remember them.
At the beginning of the year and
when it ends, we remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live;
for they are now a part of us,
as we remember them.
When we are weary and in need
of strength, we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
When we have decisions that are
difficult to make, we remember them.
When we
have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
As long as we live, they too shall live,
for they are a part of us,
as we remember them….
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Author Unknown - Judaism
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Remember
Remember
me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember
me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if
you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
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Christina
Rossetti
(1830-1894) |
Song (Requiem)
When
I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
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.
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Christina
Rossetti
(1830-1894)
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The Rose Beyond the
Wall
Near shady wall a rose once grew,
Budded and blossomed in God's free light,
Watered and fed by morning dew,
Shedding its sweetness day and night.
As it grew and blossomed fair and tall,
Slowly rising to loftier height,
It came to a crevice in the wall,
Through which there shone a beam of light.
Onward it crept with added strength,
With never a thought of fear or pride,
It followed the light through the crevice's length
And unfolded itself on the other side.
The light, the dew, the broadening view,
Were found the same as they were before,
And it lost itself in beauties new,
Breathing its fragrance more and more.
Shall claim of death cause us to grieve
And make our courage faint and fall?
Nay! Let us faith and hope receive -
The rose still grows beyond the wall.
Scattering fragrance far and wide
Just as it did in days of yore,
Just as it did on the other side,
Just as it will forevermore.
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A L Frink 1936
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A
Parable of Immortality
I am standing upon that
foreshore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength
and I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea
and the sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
'There, She’s gone!'
'Gone where?’
‘Gone from my sight, that’s all’.
She is just as large in mast and spar and hull as ever she was when she left my side;
just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of her destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at that moment
when someone at my side says,
'There, she’s gone!'
there are other eyes watching her coming
and other voices ready
to take up the glad shout.
'Here she comes!'
And that is dying.
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Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933)
[sometimes attributed to Victor Hugo]
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Do not stand at my grave
and weep
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 rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
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Mary
Fry (1905-2004)
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For
the Fallen
They
shall grow not old,
as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them,
nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun
and in the morning
We will remember them.
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Extract
from "For the Fallen" 1914
Lawrence Binyon (1869-1943)
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Lest We Forget 
