“The age-long procession of our townsfolk wends its way through Southampton, towards the far horizons of time. And so shall we all, all pass into the sun-traced shadows which lie across the pleasant fields of memory.” — Elsie M. Sandell
“Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come.
From God, who is our home.” — William Wordsworth
I love the house where you dwell, O Lord, the place where your glory resides. — Ps. 26:8
“O Lord, I see Your glory in the Church, Your Body. May it shine froth also from me, in my words and deeds.¹”
“Death looms before us like a great door. It is awesome because it is larger than any other reality we ever face. It sums up all that has been and brings to an end all that might be yet to happen. It is a great and silent door. But for the person of faith, it becomes an inviting mystery. In the course of the years one becomes weary of conflict and sorrow. One longs for the fulfillment of the most profound needs of the human heart—for peace from conflict within and without, for a place free of danger and disappointment, for relationships untroubled by change and unmarred by selfishness. One longs to see, at last, the beauty of God, which has summoned us throughout life, shining out here and there. The words of Psalm take on a poignant meaning as one gets older, ‘I have loved. O Lord, the beauty of thy house and the place where thy glory dwells’ (Ps 26:8). One desires to embrace again loved ones gone long ago—from childhood and adolescence. Death becomes a possibility of going home to our Father’s house. For the believer, it begins to lose the bitterness and sting that St. Paul spoke about and begins faintly to resemble what death was supposed to be before the Fall, a passing on to a far better place, a coming home after a long journey.” — Benedict J. Groeschel, C.F.R.
¹Daily Meditations on the Psalms
