μακαρία ἡ ὁδός, ᾗ πορεύῃ σήμερον, ὅτι
ἡτοιμάσθη σοι τόπος ἀναπαύσεως.
Burial of a layman
Thou dost not pass a lonesome way,
O soul released from mortal coil,—
Thou leav’st behind the weight and toil,
And thou art blessed of God to-day.
The path thou treadest He hath trod
Whom heaven received from death’s abode,—
He knows each turning of the road
That brings the unburdened soul to God.
It is not dark, it is not sad,
It is not haunted now with fear,—
The saints have found it full of cheer,
For with His comfort they were glad.
Yea, with His presence thou art blest,
And light upon the path is shed,
For lo, He liveth Who was dead,
And thou art journeying to thy rest.
’Tis we, not thou, who are distressed,
For, blessed, blessed, is the way,
O soul, thou journeyest to-day,
That leads to everlasting rest.