Topic : Funeral, cf. Death

I am home in Heaven, dear ones;
Oh, so happy and so bright!
There is perfect joy and beauty
In this everlasting light.

All pain and grief is over,
Every restless tossing passed;
I am now at peace forever,
Safely home in Heaven at last.

Did you wonder I so calmly
Trod the valley of the shade'
Oh! But Jesus’ love illumined
Every dark and fearful glade.

And He came Himself to meet me
In that way so hard to tread;
And with Jesus’ arm to lean on,
Could I have one doubt, dread'

Then you must not grieve so sorely,
For I love you dearly still:
Try to look beyond earth’s shadows,
Pray to trust our Father’s will.

There is work still waiting for you,
So you must not idly stand;
Do it now, while life remaineth
You shall rest in Jesus’ land.

When the work is all completed,
He will gently call you home;
Oh, the rapture of that meeting,
Oh, the joy to see you come!

Source unknown

For the believer, death means entering into the glorious presence of Christ. The 18th-century Bible commentator Matthew Henry expressed this confidence in words he hoped would be read after his death by anyone who might unduly mourn his passing. He wrote:

“Would you like to know where I am? I am at home in my Father’s house, in the mansions prepared for me here. I am where I want to be—no longer on the stormy sea, but in God’s safe, quiet harbor. My sowing time is done and I am reaping; my joy is as the joy of harvest. Would you like to know what I am doing? I see God, not as through a glass darkly, but face to face. I am engaged in the sweet enjoyment of my precious Redeemer. I am singing hallelujahs to Him who sits upon the throne, and I am constantly praising Him. Would you know what blessed company I keep? It is better than the best on earth. Here are the holy angels and the spirits of just men made perfect. ... I am with many of my old acquaintances with whom I worked and prayed, and who have come here before me. Lastly, would you know how long this will continue? It is a dawn that never fades! After millions and millions of ages, it will be as fresh as it is now. Therefore, weep not for me!” - H.G.B.

Our Daily Bread, Sunday, May 27

Afraid'
Of what'
To feel the spirit’s glad release,
To pass from pain to perfect peace,
The strife and strain of life to cease.
Afraid of that'

Afraid'
Of what'
Afraid to see the Savior’s face,
To hear his welcome and to trace
The glory gleaned from wounds of grace
Afraid of that'

Afraid'
Of what'
A flash, a crash
A pierced heart
Darkness!
Light!
Oh, heaven’s art!
A wound of His,
A counterpart
Afraid of that'

Afraid'
Of what'
To do by death what life could not
Baptize with blood a stony plot
Till souls shall blossom from this spot
Afraid of that'

From John & Betty’s Stamm’s belongings after their death in China

When American financier John Peirpont Morgan died in 1913, his last will and testament revealed his genuine faith in Jesus Christ. He had prefaced his specific bequests with these significant words:

“I commit my soul into the hands of my Savior, in full confidence that having received it and washed it in His most precious blood He will present it faultless before the throne of my heavenly Father. And I entreat my children to maintain and defend, at all hazard, and at any cost of personal sacrifice, the blessed doctrine of the complete atonement for sin through the blood of Jesus Christ, once offered, and through that alone.”

Our Daily Bread, May 11, 1995

The poet, James Whitcomb Riley, has a poem in which he tells of the death of a worker in a shop. He pictures his fellow workmen standing around on the day of his funeral talking about him. One man, tears in his eyes after saying some complimentary things, added, “When God made him, I bet He didn’t do anything else that day just set around and feel good.”

Morning Glory, January 8, 1994

Keep us, Lord, so awake in the duties of our calling that we may sleep in thy peace and wake in thy glory. - John Donne

Christianity Today, p. 50.

C. H. Spurgeon poignantly stated it this way:

“A good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you, and were helped by you, will remember you. So carve your name on hearts, and not on marble.”

Family Survival in the American Jungle, Steve Farrar, 1991, Multnomah Press, p. 48

Funerals of pastors are solemn affairs. At times when I attend one, however, I am struck by a strange kind of irony. After a lifetime of ministry supposedly focused on grace, we bring the poor soul to his grave with eloquent eulogies and high tributes that give the lie to it all. All the deceased’s good works are magnificent and, of course, all shortcomings passed over. I am often reminded at such times of Lincoln’s remark at the burial of one of his generals: “If he had known he’d get a funeral like this, he’d have died much sooner.”

Source unknown

• It is our vexing temptation, isn’t it, not only in death but throughout life. We think we are a gift to God himself instead of remembering that ordained ministry is a gift to us. - Herbert Chilstrom
• God buries His workmen, but not His work. - Henrietta Mears

Sources unknown

From valley to valley out over the hilltops,
From sunshine to fog like the darkest of night;
So we follow the Lord down life’s winding pathway,
And walk much by faith and little by sight.

‘Twould be easy to see were His presence like lightning,
And easy to hear if like thunder His voice;
But He leads in the quiet by the voice of the Spirit,
And we follow in love for we’ve made Him our choice.

The path that we tread by the cross is o’er shadowed,
And the glory at times by pain is made dim;
Temptations assail and the spirit grows weary,
Yet we’re ever sustained by the vision of Him.

The years of our lives be they few or be many,
Will soon pass away as dreams of the night;
Then we’ll step through the portals on eternity’s morning,
And greet Him in glory as faith turns to sight.

- Richard L. Baxter

Source unknown

When I am gone, say nothing about Dr. Carey, speak about Dr. Carey’s Savior.

William Carey in The Life of William Carey.

When John Todd, a nineteenth-century clergyman, was six years old, both his parents died. A kind-hearted aunt raised him until he left home to study for the ministry. Later, this aunt became seriously ill, and in distress she wrote Todd a letter. Would death mean the end of everything, or could she hope for something beyond? Here, condensed from The Autobiography of John Todd, is the letter he sent in reply:

“It is now thirty-five years since I, as a boy of six, was left quite alone in the world. You sent me word you would give me a home and be a kind mother to me. I have never forgotten the day I made the long journey to your house. I can still recall my disappointment when, instead of coming for me yourself, you sent your servant, Caesar, to fetch me.

“I remember my tears and anxiety as, perched high on your horse and clinging tight to Caesar, I rode off to my new home. Night fell before we finished the journey, and I became lonely and afraid. ‘Do you think she’ll go to bed before we get there?’ I asked Caesar. ‘Oh no!’ he said reassuringly, ‘She’ll stay up for you. When we get out o’ these here woods, you’ll see her candle shinin’ in the window.’

“Presently we did ride out into the clearing, and there, sure enough, was your candle. I remember you were waiting at the door, that you put your arms close about me—a tired and bewildered little boy. You had a fire burning on the hearth, a hot supper waiting on the stove. After supper you took me to my new room, heard me say my prayers, and then sat beside me till I fell asleep.

“Some day soon God will send for you, to take you to a new home. Don’t fear the summons, the strange journey, or the messenger of death. God can be trusted to do as much for you as you were kind enough to do for me so many years ago. At the end of the road you will find love and a welcome awaiting, and you will be safe in God’s care.”

Vernon Grounds

The Autobiography of John Todd

I’m in my eternal home now! It’s all true! This place is absolutely magnificent. Human words cannot explain it. And I’m so alive, so free, so happy, so perfectly content. I’m home now! My mind is clear, all pain is gone, my hopes and dreams have all been satisfied the moment I left earth’s shores and landed here.

Thank God—I’m home now! There are no misunderstandings in this place! No anger, no harsh words, no hurt feelings, no selfish acts, no problems on my part or that of others. I see plainly here and although God’s will was sometimes hard for me to see on earth, here it is beautifully perceived.

Praise the Lord—I’m home now! Sorrow is foreign to this place and I have yet to see anyone weeping. And the friends that I’ve met, you wouldn’t believe. And they seem so different and so gracious. I’ll probably spend half of eternity talking to them!

I’m home now! The greatest thrill was to see my Savior—face to face! If I could cry I would, but I’m just consumed with such joy and love that it defies comprehension. Mortals on earth cannot know it. It is just unexplainable!

I’m home now! I’m filled with God’s glory and with His radiance. I’ve found that talking to people on earth about Jesus has made the inhabitants of this place extremely delighted. They said that I would meet some of those I brought to the Savior later on. That gave me rapture because I now know what this abode is like.

So I’m home now! If I could speak from this side to your side I would say that the old adage is never out of date. It goes, “Only one life, twill soon be past, only what’s done for Christ will last.” And in parting let me say, don’t ever pity me, or shed bitter tears, I’m better off now than in all my earthly years. I’ve started my new life and it’s been worth it all. I trust I’ll meet you again here. Maranatha! I’m home...now! I’m Home!

Source unknown

A few days before his death, Dr. F. B. Meyer wrote a very dear friend these words:

“I have just heard, to my great surprise, that I have but a few days to live. It may be that before this reaches you, I shall have entered the palace. Don’t trouble to write. We shall meet in the morning.”

Quoted in Consolation, by Mrs. C. Cowman, p. 70.

Rev. Carl Burnham, beloved pastor of the Chapel on Fir Hill in Akron, Ohio, wrote in 1962, just prior to his Homegoing,

“When I die, if my family wishes to inscribe anything on my gravestone, I would like it to be the promise of Jesus Christ in Hebrews 13:5, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” For in due season the springtime will arrive...Then, when the resurrection sings itself in the robin’s glad song, and bursting buds defy the death grip of winter, and you walk upon the yielding earth near my grave—remember that my soul is not there, but rather it is absent from the body, present with the Lord. And somewhere, the atoms that make up my brain, my heart—my body—will be sending out resurrection radiations of a frequency too high for any earthly Geiger counter to record. But if you place the meter of God’s Word alongside that cemetery plot and adjust the settings to Hebrews 13:5, you will receive this reading: “He hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”

Source unknown

When you’re old as I am, there are all sorts of extremely pleasant things that happen to you...the pleasantest of all is that you wake up in the night and you find that you are half in and half out of your battered old carcass. It seems quite a tossup whether you go back and resume full occupancy of your mortal body, or make off toward the bright glow you see in the sky, the lights of the city of God.

Malcolm Muggeridge, Christianity Today, Sept. 3, 1982