The passing
Now this etherel shell I yieldTo lie in deaths repose
Free at last from the yolkof sublunary woes.
Shroud your grief unto me
in tranquil muse of grace
For is not death mans panacea?
Gods first true embrace?
Our lives are but brief sojourns.
Unlike our souls eternal
This our passage long since writ
In Gods most sacred journal.
Hence I depart in lasting peace
no lull or trepidation
And leave behind only this,
My love and adoration.
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