Thou art not dead! Thou art the whole Of life that quickens in the sod.

Thanksgiving (U.S.) Lord, I am glad for the great gift of living, Glad for Thy days of sun and of rain; Grateful for joy, with an endless thanksgiving, Grateful for laughter -- and grateful for pain. Lord, I am glad for the young April's wonder, Glad for the fulness of long summer days; And now when the spring and my heart are asunder, Lord, I give thanks for the dark autumn ways. Sun, bloom, and blossom, O Lord, I remember, The dream of the spring and its joy I recall; But now in the silence and pain of November, Lord, I give thanks to Thee, Giver of all!

I need not shout my faith. Thrice eloquent Are quiet trees and the green, listening sod; Hushed are the stars, whose power is never spent; The hills are mute: yet, how they speak of God!

I need the starshine of your heavenly eyes,
After the day's great sun.

Our fear of death is like our fear that summer will be short , but when we have had our fill of fruit, our swelter of heat, we said that we have had our day.

Life and death are balanced on the edge of a razor.