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Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I
am not there.
I do not sleep.
I
am a thousand winds that blow,
I
am the diamond glint on snow,
I
am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I
am the gentle autumn rain.
When
you wake in the morning’s hush,
I
am the swift uplifting rush,
of
quiet birds in circling flight,
I
am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do
not stand at my grave and cry,
I
am not there.
I did not die.
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The
Horse's Prayer
I'm
only a horse, dear Master, but my heart is warm and
true,
And I'm ready to work my hardest, for the
pleasure of pleasing you.
Good corn, and hay, and water, are all that I
wish to ask.
And a warm dry bed to rest on, when I've
finished my daily task.
Don't strike me in needless anger if I'm slow to understand,
But encourage my drooping spirits with a gentle
voice and hand.
Finally, O my Master! When my health and
strength are gone,
When I'm getting old and feeble, and my long
life's work is done,
Don't sell me to cruel owners, to be slaved to
my latest breath,
But grant me the untold blessing of a quick and
painless death;
That, as you have always found me a patient and
loyal friend,
The years of my faithful service may be crowned
by a peaceful end.
I plead in the name of the Savior, Who cares
when the sparrows fall.
Who was born in a lowly stable, and knows and
loves us all.
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