Funeral Reading

Funeral Reading

Funeral Reading

The Broken Chain

We little knew that morning that God was going to call your name. In life we loved you dearly; in death, we do the same.

It broke our hearts to lose you, you did not go alone. For part of us went with you, the day God called you home.

You left us peaceful memories, your love is still our guide, and though we cannot see you, you are always at our side.

Our family chain is broken, and nothing seems the same, but as God calls us one by one, the chain will link again.

– anon 


You promised me you’d always be there. You sat there, in that chair and promised me.

Large as life, ebullient, robust; they were the words that sealed your promise.

You stood by the shore. As we laughed and squealed with delight as you picked up rocks and tossed them with ease.

Splashing us with expectations of your invincibility.

You were invincible. weren’t you Daddy? Or was it just a trick of time that made me believe that you could live forever?

– David Chadwick


One night I dreamed a dream.
As I was walking along the beach with my Lord.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life.
For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonging to me and one to my Lord.

After the last scene of my life flashed before me, I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed that at many times along the path of my life, especially at the very lowest and saddest times,
there was only one set of footprints.

This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it. “Lord, you said once I decided to follow you, you’d walk with me all the way. But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life, there was only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me.”

He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you, never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

– Mary Stevenson

All Is Well

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me and if you want to, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
let it be spoken without effect,
without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was;
there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you,
for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just around the corner.
All is well.

– Henry Scott-Holland

Miss Me But Let Me Go

When I come to the end of the road, and the sun has set for me.
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room, why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little but not too long, and not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that we once shared.
Miss me, but let me go, for this is a journey that we all must take and each must go alone.
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan, a step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart, go to the friends we know, and bury your sorrow in doing good deeds.
Miss me, but let me go.

Indian Prayer

When I am dead
Cry for me a little
Think of me sometimes
But not too much
Think of me now and again
As I was in life
At some moments it’s pleasant to recall
But not for long
Leave me in peace
And I shall leave you in peace
And while you live
Let your thoughts be with the living

Traditional Indian Prayer

Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling. From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer’s gone, and all the leaves are falling, T’is you, T’is you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when Summer’s in the meadow, Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow,
And I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow, Oh, Danny boy, I love you so!

But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying, If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying, And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me, And I shall sleep in peace til you come to me!

– Frederick E. Weatherly