Do not stand at my
grave and weep,
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand
winds that blow.
I am the diamond’s
glint on snow.
I am the sunlight
on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awake in the mornings
Hush, I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at
Night. Do not stand at my grave
and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake;
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take.
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