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DEATH. Death is like the sailing of a ship. The watcher on the seashore sees her spread her white sails to the morning breeze and start for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. We stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Someone says, "There--she’s gone," and we find ourselves asking, "Gone where?" "Gone from my sight--That’s all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the places of destination."

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "There--she’s gone," there come other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "There she comes"

And so it is when one passes from this life into the Great Beyond. - Adapted from a service by Rev. Morris C. Robinson.

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