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 circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there: I did not die
THIS CHILD OF MINE
"for you to love while he lives, and mourn when he is dead.
It may be six or seven years or twenty-two or three,
but will you 'til I call him back, take care of him for Me?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you, and shall his stay be brief,
you'll have his lovely memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay, as all from earth return,
but there are lessons taught down there I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over in my search for teacher true,
and from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love - not think the labor vain,
nor hate Me when I come to call to take him back again."
I fancied that I heard them say,
'Dear Lord, thy will be done,
for all the joy this child shall bring,
the risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shower him with tenderness
and love him while we may,
and for the happiness we've known,
forever grateful stay.
And should the angels call for him much sooner than we planned,
we'll brave the bitter grief that comes, and try to understand.