Wednesday
Mar262014
Wednesday, March 26, 2014 at 04:44AM
=0=0=0=
U p A g a i n s t I t
Bonaventure Cemetery
Savannah, Georgia
=0=0=0=
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Lord, make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother
She'll know I'm safe with You when she
Stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain't even gray but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life
Well, I've had just enough time
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
The sharp knife of a short life
Well, I've had just enough time
And I'll be wearing white when I come into Your kingdom
I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger
I've never known the lovin' of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand
There's a boy here in town says he'll love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The sharp knife of a short life?
Well, I've had just enough time.
So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls
What I never did is done
A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I've been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Oh, oh, the ballad of the dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket
Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em
Oh, the sharp knife of a short life
Well, I've had just enough time
So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls.
~Kimberly Perry~
=0=0=0=
Dedicated to the memory of Letha Marie Snodgrass
=0=0=0=
=0=0=0=
Tuesday
Mar252014
A lark somewhere
Tuesday, March 25, 2014 at 04:44AM
=0=0=0=
W i l l Y o u M i s s M e ?
Rambo
Prosperity, South Carolina
=0=0=0=
Every time we say goodbye
I die a little
Every time we say goodbye
I wonder why a little
Why the gods above me
Who must be in the know
Think so little of me
They allow you to go
When you're near, there's such an air
Of spring about it
I can hear a lark somewhere
Begin to sing about it
There's no love song finer
But how strange the change
From major to minor
Every time we say goodbye
Every single time we say goodbye.
~Cole Porter (1891-1964)~
=0=0=0=
Monday
Mar242014
Not enjoyment and not sorrow
Monday, March 24, 2014 at 04:44AM
=0=0=0=
T e n d e r H o l d
Magnolia Cemetery
Augusta, Georgia
=0=0=0=
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
=0=0=0=
Dedicated to the memory of
February 27, 1807 - March 24, 1882
=0=0=0=
Sunday
Mar232014
All that I have
Sunday, March 23, 2014 at 04:44AM
=0=0=0=
R o c k o f A g e s
Ebenezer Baptist Church Cemetery
Travelers Rest, South Carolina
=0=0=0=
When I at the gates of Heaven appear
To answer the challenge, What claim hast thou here?
What hast thou to offer, yea, what is thy plea?
With blessed assurance my answer will be:
All that I have is Jesus
All that I claim is Jesus
All that I want, all that I need
All that I plead is Jesus.
Of all earthly treasures, nothing I've brought
No great deeds of merit have I ever wrought
Tho' vile and unworthy as mortal could be,
I've nothing to offer, but this is my plea:
All that I have is Jesus
All that I claim is Jesus
All that I want, all that I need
All that I plead is Jesus.
My sins they are many, my virtues are few
But the blood of my Savior will carry me through
When Christ in my place died on Calvary's tree
Hallelujah! That opened God's Heaven for me.
All that I have is Jesus
All that I claim is Jesus
All that I want, all that I need
All that I plead is Jesus.
~J.L. Baker~
=0=0=0=
He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life.
These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God.
I John 5:12-13
=0=0=0=
Saturday
Mar222014
Cause and effect
Saturday, March 22, 2014 at 04:44AM
=0=0=0=
T i p p e d
Colonial Park Cemetery
Savannah, Georgia
=0=0=0=
Events unfold in ways that make us think of God. They achieve, in their happening, a symmetry and order that would be frightening if assigned to Chance. Things that happen here intersect with things that happen elsewhere, as if there were a plan.
Coincidence makes way for correlation which, in its turn, bespeaks the intimate consortium of cause and effect -- first in whispers, then in the full blushless voice of certainty: because it says, because.
Eventually everything is suspect: I wash the car, it rains; she wears that perfume, he is dizzy with desire; as long as you whistle that tune no tigers appear. Ironies? Happenstance? Or is it that tune that keeps the tigers at bay? The finger of fate or of fate's Maker that taps, deliberately, those dominoes, the tipping of which, down the ages, is history.
~Thomas Lynch~
=0=0=0=