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A beloved friend of ours went home leaving precious footprints in our hearts. On Monday, our family went along with the young people in our church as well as several others to see him... one last time. We all took our turn shaking his hand as he poured out his blessings to us. I will never forget his barely audible last words to me … “I’ll be waiting for you”. “I’ll be waiting for you too, Bro Herb.” was and is my reply. He gave me the sweetest smile. Each word heaved from his heart - one breath, one word - at a time. He commented on Lydia’s beautiful music, I couldn’t make out what he said to Josiah or the little girls. While we sang, I felt such a sweet peace in the room. Bro Herb was singing too, with all the little bit of strength he had left. It was the evening. The next day, he went home. Thank you Jesus for the opportunity to see him one last time before crossing the bar.
The funeral was beautiful. The young people sang, and one of the young men recited the Psalm of Life by heart. And then our precious brother’s body was laid to rest many others that have gone on before.
A PSALM OF LIFE
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait
Till we meet, my precious friend and brother! Till we meet
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