Classic Poem

There is a plan far greater than the plan you know;
There is a landscape broader than the one you see.
There is a haven where storm-tossed souls may go--
You call it death--we, immortality.

You call it death--this seeming endless sleep;
We call it birth--the soul at last set free.
'Tis hampered not by time or space--you weep.
Why weep at death? 'Tis immortality.

Farewell, dear voyageur--'twill not be long.
Your work is done--now may peace rest with thee.
Your kindly thoughts and deeds--they will live on.
This is not death--'tis immortality.

Farewell, dear voyageur--the river winds and turns;
The cadence of your song wafts near to me,
And now you know the thing that all men learn:
There is no death--there's immortality.