ChatterBank5 mins ago
friends mums funeral non religious prayer
32 Answers
she wants a verse or prayer everyone can say together
somthing short but not religious any ideas please she needs it by thursday
thanks guys xx
somthing short but not religious any ideas please she needs it by thursday
thanks guys xx
Answers
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When one of my family died, this was read
"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 gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled light
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand on my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
"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 gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled light
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand on my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
How about this one...
Death is nothing at all…
I have only slipped away to the next room…
I am I and you are you…
Whatever we were to each, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak it to me in the same way you always used.
Put no difference into your tone,
Wear no false air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect, without the ghost of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolutely unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident.
I am but waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner.
All is well.
Death is nothing at all…
I have only slipped away to the next room…
I am I and you are you…
Whatever we were to each, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak it to me in the same way you always used.
Put no difference into your tone,
Wear no false air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect, without the ghost of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolutely unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident.
I am but waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner.
All is well.
Also, this Celtic benediction was read at my BIL's funeral
Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the Flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you
"Son of Peace" could be said to be rellgious but it such a lovely peaceful verse, my BIL was not religious but my sister knew he would have liked this one.
Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the Flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you
"Son of Peace" could be said to be rellgious but it such a lovely peaceful verse, my BIL was not religious but my sister knew he would have liked this one.
The Poem >>> Do not stand at my grave & weep, is by Mary Frye 1932.
One of the most memorable readings of it was on BBC radio in 1995 when a father read it in memory of his son who was killed in active service. The poem was found in an envelope in the soldiers belongings.
The other occasion who many may remember was at the funeral in the film 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' >>
jem
One of the most memorable readings of it was on BBC radio in 1995 when a father read it in memory of his son who was killed in active service. The poem was found in an envelope in the soldiers belongings.
The other occasion who many may remember was at the funeral in the film 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' >>
jem
This is lovely...
Miss Me, But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free
Miss me a little - but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me - but let me go
For this is a journey that we must all take
And each must go alone
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home
When you are lonely, and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go
Miss Me, But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free
Miss me a little - but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me - but let me go
For this is a journey that we must all take
And each must go alone
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home
When you are lonely, and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go
My favourite
Life Goes On
If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower
Nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I am gone
Speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves
That I have known
Weep if you must
Parting is hell
But life goes on
So .... sing as well
Joyce Grenfell
1910-1979
This was read at my Mums funeral because she went to the Queen Mum's funeral where it was read and she liked it.
He is Gone
You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he lived,
You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared,
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on,
You can cry and close your mind be empty and turn your
back,
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes,
love and go on.
You could take the last line off this one
I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says:
"She is gone."
Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and to
Life Goes On
If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower
Nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I am gone
Speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves
That I have known
Weep if you must
Parting is hell
But life goes on
So .... sing as well
Joyce Grenfell
1910-1979
This was read at my Mums funeral because she went to the Queen Mum's funeral where it was read and she liked it.
He is Gone
You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he lived,
You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared,
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on,
You can cry and close your mind be empty and turn your
back,
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes,
love and go on.
You could take the last line off this one
I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says:
"She is gone."
Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and to
oh poo, got cut off
I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says:
"She is gone."
Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,
not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
"She is gone",
There are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout:
"There she comes"
- and that is dying. An horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, Oh Lord, that we may see further.
Bishop Brent
1862 - 1926
I am standing on the sea shore,
A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says:
"She is gone."
Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,
not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
"She is gone",
There are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout:
"There she comes"
- and that is dying. An horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, Oh Lord, that we may see further.
Bishop Brent
1862 - 1926
W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
but I wouldn't call it comforting
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
but I wouldn't call it comforting
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headwreck you can listen to it again now...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHGTXg-JVlQ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHGTXg-JVlQ
-- answer removed --
-- answer removed --
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