There Is No Death, There Are No Dead

(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.'

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox was an American author and poet, born on November 5, 1850, and died on October 30, 1919. She was known for her works expressing optimistic views and moral lessons. Her most famous book was 'Poems of Passion'. Her poem 'Solitude' contains the famous lines, 'Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone'. Over her career, Wilcox became popularly known as a 'people's poet'.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Arrival

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Forward

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

An Old Man To His Sleeping Young Bride

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

No Spring.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Be Not Dismayed

Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death
Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face.
Poor human nature for a little space
Must suffer anguish, when that last drawn breath
Leaves such long silence; but let not thy faith
    Fail for a moment in God's boundless grace.
    But know, oh know, He has prepared a place
Fairer for our dear dead than worlds beneath,
Yet not beneath; for those entrancing spheres
    Surround our earth as seas a barren isle.
Ours is the region of eternal fears;
    Theirs is the region where God's radiant smile
Shines outward from the centre, and gives hope
Even to those who in the shadows grope.
They are not far from us.    At first though long
    And lone may seem the paths that intervene,
    If ever on the staff of prayer we l...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Answer

Up to the gates of gleaming Pearl,
There came the spirit of a girl,
And to the white-robed Guard she said:
'Dear Angel, am I truly dead?
Just yonder, lying on my bed,
I heard them say it; and they wept.
And after that, methinks I slept.
Then when I woke, I saw your face,
And suddenly was in this place.
It seems a pleasant place to be,
Yet earth was fair enough to me.
What is there here, to do, or see?
Will I see God, dear Angel, say?
And is He very far away?'

The Angel said, 'You are in truth
What men call dead.    That word to youth
Is full of terror; but it means
Only a change of tasks, and scenes.
You have been brought to us because
Of certain ancient karmic laws
Set into motion aeons gone.
By us you will be guided on
Fro...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Beyond.

        It seemeth such a little way to me
    Across to that strange country - the Beyond;
        And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be
    The home of those of whom I am so fond,
        They make it seem familiar and most dear,
        As journeying friends bring distant regions near.

        So close it lies that when my sight is clear
    I think I almost see the gleaming strand.
        I know I feel those who have gone from here
    Come near enough sometimes to touch my hand.
        I often think, but for our veiled eyes,
        We should find Heaven right round about us lies.

        I cannot make it seem a day to dread,
    When from this dear earth I shall journey out
        To that still dearer country of the dead,
    And join th...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life Is Love

Is anyone sad in the world, I wonder?
    Does anyone weep on a day like this,
With the sun above and the green earth under?
    Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?

With the sun and the skies and the birds above me,
    Birds that sing as they wheel and fly -
With the winds to follow and say they loved me -
    Who could be lonely?    O ho, not I!

Somebody said in the street this morning,
    As I opened my window to let in the light,
That the darkest day of the world was dawning;
    But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight

One who claims that he knows about it
    Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin;
But I and the bees and the birds - we doubt it,
    And think it a world worth living in.

Someone says that hearts are fickle...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Not Dead, but Sleeping.

[To the memory of Edwin B. Foster, a member of the Howards, who nobly sacrificed his own life for others, and in remembrance of those unknown to fame or friends who have silently followed in the steps of our Saviour.]



The shadow of death is around us all,
    And life is a sorrowful thing;
For the winds sweep by with a mournful sigh,
    And sad are the tidings they bring.

He is dead--and the strong, brave life that he gave
    Seemed offered to God in vain;
Yet he died, Christ-like, in a labor of love,
    'Mid sorrow and death and pain.

And why should we sorrow--the crown is his
    And the glory of life is won;
Though he died when his labor was just begun,
    Yet the work of his life is done.

The beautiful South is a land of death,

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

Always At Sea

Always at sea I think about the dead.
On barques invisible they seem to sail
The self-same course; and from the decks cry 'Hail'!
Then I recall old words that they have said,
And see their faces etched upon the mist -
    Dear faces I have kissed.

Always the dead seem very close at sea.
The coarse vibrations of the earth debar
Our spirit friends from coming where we are.
But through God's ether, unimpeded, free,
They wing their way, the ocean deeps above -
    And find the hearts that love.

Always at sea my dead come very near.
A growing host; some old in spirit lore,
And some who crossed to find the other shore
But yesterday.    All, all, I see and hear
With inner senses, while the voice of faith
    Proclaims - there is no death.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox