Words of Comfort

God's Garden

God looked around His garden and he found an empty place;
He then looked down upon the earth and upon 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 that 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 eye lids and whispered,
"Peace be Thane".

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. Rest in Peace.
 
I cannot promise he will stay
Since all from Earth return,
But there are lessons taught down there
I want the child to learn.
I've looked this wide world over
In my search for teacher's true,
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you;
Now will you give him all your love,
Nor think the labor vain
Nor hate Me when I come to call
And take him back again?

"When I left this world without you I know it made you blue. 
Your tears fell so freely, I watched; I know this is true.
While you were weeping days after I passed away;
While all was Silent within me, I saw you kneel to pray.
Called Heaven where all my pain is gone,
I send a gentle breeze to whisper,
My loved ones, please go on

 I fancied that I heard them say,
"Dear Lord, They will be done,
For all the joy Thy child shall bring,
For the risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness,
We'll love him while we may,
And for the happiness we've known,
Forever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for him
Much sooner than we planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes
And try to understand."
-Edgar Gues

Little Angels

When God calls little children to dwell with Him above,
We mortals sometime question the wisdom of His love.
For no heartache compares with the death of one small child
Who does so much to make our world, seem wonderful and mild
Perhaps God tires of calling the aged to his fold,
So He picks a rosebud, before it can grow old.
God knows how much we need them, and so He takes but few
To make the land of Heaven more beautiful to view.
Believing this is difficult still somehow we must try,
The saddest word mankind knows will always be "Goodbye."
So when a little child departs, we who are left behind
Must realize God loves children, Angels are hard to find.
-Anonymous

Another Little Angels

God sent an angel to the earth...
The sweetest angel too
and for such a tiny little thing,
she had so much to do.

She knew she did not have
much time upon this earth to stay,
so she did not waste a second;
she got started right away.

Her eyes were bright and sparkly,
she took in every turn.
She did not miss a single thing,
because Angel came to learn!

God sent her here to touch the
hearts of those he could not reach...
She taught them courage, strength and faith,
because Angel came to teach.

Her tiny little body
was so full of God above,
you felt it when you held her,
because {name} came to love.

In {number} short months she managed
what many never will.
When she went home to Jesus,
her purpose was fulfilled.

She learned and taught, loved and played,
she learned her lessons well.
I know he was so proud of her
when she went home to dwell.

But when I miss her oh-so-much,
I can almost hear him say,
please understand, her work was done...
{name} did not come to stay.
-Anonymous

Little Boy Blue

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.

Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"New don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys.

And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue...
Oh! The years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!

Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place.
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.

And they wonder
As waiting the long years through
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.
- Eugene Field

"The thought of eternity consoles for the shortness of life"
-Luc de Clapier

High Flight

"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of; wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air;
Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark nor even eagle flew;
And while, with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high, un-trespassed sanctity of space
Put out my hand and touched the face of God."
-Fl. Officer John Gillespie McGee ~ 1922-1941

"The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceased the moment life appeared. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier."
-Walt Whitman

An Indian Prayer

Creator of life and light,
We pries thee this day for the beauty of thy world,
for sunshine and flowers,
storm-cloud and starry night,
for the radiance of dawn and the last smoldering calm of the sunset.
We thank thee for physical joys,
for the ecstasy of swift motion, for deep water to swim in,
For the goodly smell of rain on dry ground,
for hills to climb and hard work to do,
for all the skill of hand and eye,
for music that lifts our hearts in one breath to heaven,
for the grasp of a friend,
for the gracious loveliness of children,
for all these thy sacraments of beauty and joy,
we thank thee our Lord and God.

One of the most valuable things we can do to heal one another,
is listen to each other's stories
-Rebecca Fall

Old Indian Prayer

Should your blanket be torn,
May your breezes blow warm,
May your pleasure be what you find.
May the burdens you bear
Like your bounty be shared
May you leave something good behind

May the sky and the land
Rise to your command
May your senses come like the night.
Live in peace with the Earth
As in death As in birth
May you prosper, and have a good life.
 
Afternoon in February

The day is ending,
The night is descending;
The marsh is frozen,
The river dead.

Through clouds like ashes
The red sun flashes
On village windows
That glimmer red.

The snow recommences;
The buried fences
Mark no longer
The road o'er the plain;

While through the meadows,
Like fearful shadows,
Slowly passes
A funeral train.

The bell is pealing,
And every feeling
Within me responds
To the dismal knell;

Shadows are trailing,
My heart is bewailing
And tolling within
Like a funeral bell.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Fisherman's Prayer

God grant that I may live to fish,
until my dying day,
And when it comes to my last cast,
I then most humbly pray,
When in the Lord's safe landing net,
I'm peacefully asleep,
That in his mercy I be judged,
As big enough to keep.

Cast thy nets and hooks to claim the seas bountiful harvest as the ashes of my life shall drift forever upon the open sea. I pray God shall cast his net and catch my soul adding it to the bountiful harvest of Heaven.

Memory Can Tell Us Only What We Were

Memory can tell us only what we were,
In company with those we loved;
It cannot help us find out what each of us,
Alone, must now become.
Yet, no person is really alone;
Those who live no more still echo
Within our thoughts and words,
And what they did has become
Woven into what we are.
- Richard Fife

Farewell

"Farewell to Thee! But not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of Thee;
Within my heart they still shall dwell
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
 
Life seems more sweet that Thou didst live
And men more true Thou wert one;
Nothing is lost that Thou didst give,
Nothing destroyed that Thou hast done."
-Anne Bronte ~ 1820-1849

Life Goes On

"If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower
Nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I am 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"
-Joyce Grenfell ~ 1910-1979

Indian Prayer

"When I am dead
Cry for me a little
Think of me sometimes
But not too much.
Think of me now and again
As I was in life
At some moments it's pleasant to recall
But not for long.
Leave me in peace
And I shall leave you in peace
And while you live
Let your thoughts be with the living."
-Traditional Indian Prayer

"No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever."
Francois Muria

"If I should go tomorrow
It would never be goodbye,
For I have left my heart with you,
So don't you ever cry.
The love that's deep within me,
Shall reach you from the stars,
You'll feel it from the heavens,
And it will heal the scars.

He is Gone

"You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he lived,
You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared,
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on,
You can cry and close your mind be empty and turn your
back,
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes,
love and go on."
-David Harkin

Memorial Day

The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.

The roses blossom white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn
graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and
fought the fight.
Through flying lead and
crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom
and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie
beneath this sod,
Who went through fire
and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.

In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace...
Who brought a sword.
- Joyce Kilmer

"I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last 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 in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of 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, and other voices take up a glad shout:
"There she comes"
- and that is dying. An horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, Oh Lord, that we may see further."
-Bishop Brent, 1862 - 1926

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death August and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe,
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.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labor of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
-Laurence Binyon

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."
-Christina Rossetti ~ 1830-1894

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. 
He maketh me to lie down in green Pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake, Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointed my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

To Those Who've Fail'd

To those who've fail'd, in aspiration vast,
To unnam'd soldiers fallen in front on the lead,
To calm, devoted engineers , to over-ardent travelers , to pilots on their ships,
To many a lofty song and picture without recognition , I'd rear laurel-cover'd monument,
High, high above the rest , To all cut off before their time,
Possess'd by some strange spirit of fire,
Quench'd by an early death.
-Walt Whitman

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost

Death Be Not Proud

"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost over throw
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure - then, from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more. Death thou shalt die."
-John Donne ~ 1572-163

"For whatever we lose, like a you or a me, it's always ourselves we find in the sea"
- E.E. Cumming

Gates of Prayer

As long as we live, they too will live;
For they are now a part of us:
As we remember them!

At the rising 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 the 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 the leaves and in the beauty of the 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 joy we crave to share we remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs we remember them.
For as long as we live, they too will live,
For they are now a part of us, as we remember them.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

"Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked not lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
-Dylan Thomas ~ 1914-195

But Not Forgotten

"I think no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not forget my hands,
Nor yet the way I held my head
Nor the tremulous things I said.
You will still see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,
And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.
I think, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory
And keep my image there without me,
By telling later loves about me."
-Dorothy Parke

Living Bouquets

 "When I quit this mortal shore"