On Our Way Home
There is a plan far greater than the plan you know;
There is a landscape broader than the one you see.
There is a haven where storm-tossed souls may go—
You call it death—we, immortality.
You call it death-this seeming endless sleep;
We call it birth-the soul at last set free.
'Tis hampered not by time or space-you weep.
Why weep at death? "Tis immortality.
Farewell, dear voyageur -twill not be long.
Your work is done—now may peace rest with thee.
Your kindly thoughts and deeds—they will live on.
This is not death-'tis immortality.
Farewell, dear voyageur-to the grand sea of eternity your boat turns;
The cadence of your song wafts near to me, 
And now you know the thing that all men learn:
There is no death-there's immortality.
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