The Country Churchyard

The stones point up in the waning light,
A stark reminder of times gone past,
When busy lives were full and bright,
And days uncounted until the last. The great and humble all gather alike
Amid the soft and pungent earth,
To rest together in endless night,
Though separate paths pursued from birth. From ashes to ashes the cycle repeats,
How many times of row upon rows,
That so many would embraced defeats,
A trillion times a trillion, only God really knows. How many souls adorned with grace
Ascended up into heavenly skies,
To see and know God face to face,
In lasting glory and paradise. For all that loved and was loved in turn,
And all that beauty or wealth 'er gave,
For all the wise and all the learned,
The fate of all but leads to the grave.

by Floyd Hildebrand

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