(Suggested by the book of Mr. Ed. C. Randall.)

'There is no death, there are no dead.'
    From zone to zone, from sphere to sphere,
    The souls of all who pass from here
By hosts of living thoughts are led;
And dark or bright, those souls must tread
    The paths they fashioned year on year.
    For hells are built of hate or fear,
And heavens of love our lives have shed.

Across unatlassed worlds of space,
    And through God's mighty universe,
    With thoughts that bless or thoughts that curse,
Each journeys to his rightful place.
    Oh, greater truth no man has said,
    'There is no death, there are no dead.'

It lifts the mourner from the sod,
    And bids him cast away the reed
    Of some uncomforting poor creed,
And walk with Knowledge for a rod.
It bids the doubter seek the broad
    Vast fields, where living facts will feed
    All those whose patience proves their need
Of these immortal truths of God.

It brings before the eyes of faith
    Those realms of radiance, tier on tier,
    Where our beloved 'dead' appear,
More beautiful because of 'death.'
    It speaks to grief: 'Be comforted;
    There is no death, there are no dead.'

Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay & Hancock, 1911.

Back to Poem Index