Funerals

In My Father's House

In my Father's house are many mansions. John 14:2

No, not cold beneath the grasses,
Not closed -wall within the tomb;
Rather in my Father's mansion,
Living, in another room.

Living, like the one who loves me,
Like yon child with cheeks abloom,
Out of sight, at desk or schoolbook,
Busy, in another room.

Nearer than the youth whom fortune
Beckons where the strange lands loom;
Just behind the hanging curtain,
Serving in another room.

Shall I doubt my Father's mercy?
Shall I think of death as doom,
Or the stepping o'er the threshold
To a bigger, brighter room?

Shall I blame my Father's wisdom?
Shall I sit enswathed in gloom,
When I know my love is happy
Waiting in another room?

I pray the words of this poem will bring some comfort.
Pastor James H. Lane

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