And the sun shall warm them

And the sun shall warm them,

And the cold of night embrace them

Down to the very bones,

The skittering, chittering skeleton,

Of whom we have no fear.

And the grass shall grow, wild and free,

And the mountains stand in all their solemn majesty;

While the small streams laugh at their folly

And the birds sing

A tune for every hour:

And everywhere a holy place

Under a sheltering sky.

Let us be unafraid

Of the burden of mortality:

The fading and the slowing,

And the terror of the dark.

For we are held and carried

By one who went before us,

Who bears us in his palm prints

And never lost one yet.

And beyond is only love