In Memory

A multitude is sleeping on the hill,
Each one so voiceless and so still.
Waiting time within this mortal bed,
As sweet rains on the grasses are shed.

The air is hushed with only gently sound,
Quiet slumber reigns beneath the ground.
This is the way that death is known,
Like an empty cocoon with the spirit flown.

And we...the living meditate in thought,
Why are they there, and we are not.
This scene of change bespeaks God's plan,
And magnifies true hope in every man.

Death...is but a mantle, silent, sweet,
A thorough-fare where earthly cares retreat.
It gives us vision to celestial loam,
And points the path...for mortals going home.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Almo. Idaho, USA - Sunny Cedar Rest cemetery