Allah Mu’hid, Allah most good! 
Now thy grace is understood: 
Now my heart no longer wonders
What Al-Barsakh is, which sunders
Life from death, and death from heaven: 
Nor the “Paradises Seven”
Which the happy dead inherit;
Nor those “birds” which bear each spirit
Toward the Throne, “green birds and white,”
Radiant, glorious, swift their flight! 
Now the long, long darkness ends. 
Yet ye wail, my foolish friends,
While the man whom ye call “dead”
In unbroken bliss instead
Lives, and loves you:  lost, ’tis true
By any light which shines for you;
But in light ye cannot see
Of unfulfilled felicity,
And enlarging Paradise;
Lives the life that never dies.

Farewell, friends!  Yet not farewell;
Where I am, ye too shall dwell. 
I am gone before your face
A heart-beat’s time, a gray ant’s pace. 
When ye come where I have stepped,
Ye will marvel why ye wept;
Ye will know, by true love taught,
That here is all, and there is naught. 
Weep awhile, if ye are fain,—­
Sunshine still must follow rain! 
Only not at death, for death—­
Now I see—­is that first breath
Which our souls draw when we enter
Life, that is of all life center.

Know ye Allah’s law is love,
Viewed from Allah’s Throne above;
Be ye firm of trust, and come
Faithful onward to your home!
“La Allah ilia Allah! Yea,
Mu’hid!  Restorer!  Sovereign!” say!

He who died at Asan gave This to those that made his grave.

SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.

  [11] The hour of prayer; esteemed a blessed time to die.

IT IS NOT DEATH TO DIE.

It is not death to die,
  To leave this weary road,
And, midst the brotherhood on high,
  To be at home with God.

It is not death to close
  The eye long dimmed by tears,
And wake in glorious repose,
  To spend eternal years.

It is not death to bear
  The wrench that sets us free
From dungeon-chain, to breathe the air
  Of boundless liberty.

It is not death to fling
  Aside this sinful dust,
And rise on strong, exulting wing,
  To live among the just.

Jesus, thou Prince of Life,
  Thy chosen cannot die! 
Like Thee they conquer in the strife,
  To reign with Thee on high.

GEORGE WASHINGTON BETHUNE.

THERE IS NO DEATH.

There is no death! the stars go down
  To rise upon some other shore,
And bright in heaven’s jewelled crown
  They shine forever more.

There is no death! the forest leaves
  Convert to life the viewless air;
The rocks disorganize to feed
  The hungry moss they bear.

There is no death! the dust we tread
  Shall change, beneath the summer showers,
To golden grain, or mellow fruit,
  Or rainbow-tinted flowers.