I Have Lost Too Many Friends To Continue Counting
To Them I Dedicate This Page And These Poems

We Remember Them

By Rabbi Jack Riemer

In the rising of the sun and in its going down
We remember them.

In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter
We remember them

In the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring
We remember them

In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer
We remember them

In the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn
We remember them

In the beginning of the year and when it ends
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 joys we yearn to share
We remember them

SO LONG AS WE LIVE, THEY TOO SHALL LIVE
FOR THEY ARE NOW A PART OF US,
AND WE REMEMBER THEM

What Death Cannot Take From Us

By Rabbi Sidney Greenberg

Death has cast its dark shadow over our homes, And it has left us all deeply bereft.

A Voice has been stilled, a heart has been stopped.
Laughter has departed, joy has fled

Gone are the warmth and the glow of a loved one's presence;
The chain of love has lost a vital link.

Death has taken lives which were precious;
It has brought pain, loneliness and sorrow.

And yet there is so much that death cannot touch.
So much over which it has no domain.

Death cannot rob us of our past.
The years, the dreams, the experiences which we shared

Death cannot take from us the love we knew;
It is woven into the tapestry of our lives.

The lessons we were taught we shall continue to cherish;
We shall cling to the wisdom that lives on.

What we have had, we shall always possess;
What we have known, we shall always hold dear.

Death cannot take from us our abiding trust,
That God will give us strength to endure what we must.

Death Cannot take from us our sustaining hope,
That with God every soul is precious; none is ever lost.

Thus, even in sorrow, we thank our God,
For our memories and our hopes, for our trust and our faith.

For these, we believe need never be lost;
These, and so much more, death cannot take from us.

My Hand in Thy Hand

By Wallace W. Winchell

When death comes quietly, the mystic close
of an old mystic legend, fully told,
the gradual days that strew the withering rose
and drape the forest aisles with bannered gold ---
or when death comes, sudden and unaware,
a cold mist lifting to the morning sun,
an epilogue too soon, the stage left bare
of actors and the final scene undone:
Then Thou art with me, and Thy rod and staff
comfort me, and we journey - I and Thou -
on where the shadows deepen. More than half
my waking senses dimmed, I go handfast,
and on the other side friends wait me now.
Footfirm I go with all the terrors passed.

Take Me Back To The Main Menu Please!

This page has been visited

times!

---

This page hosted by � Get your own Free Home Page