THOU TOO IN HEAVEN WILL HAVE
A LITTLE GOLDEN TAIL"
- Martin Luther
REQUEST FROM RAINBOW BRIDGE
Weep not for me though I am gone
Into that gentle night
Grieve if you will, but not for long
Upon my soul's sweet flight.
I am at peace, my soul's at rest
There is no need for tears.
For with your love I was so blessed
For all those many years.
There is no pain, I suffer not,
The fear now all is gone.
Put now these things out of your thoughts,
In your memory I live on.
Remember not my fight for breath
Remember not the strife
Please do not dwell upon my death,
But celebrate my life.
~Constance Jenkins by permission
of the Author
Don't Grieve Too Long
Don't grieve too long for now I'm free
I've followed the path God set for me
I ran to Him when I heard His call
I wagged my tail and left it all.
I could not stay another day
To bark, to love to romp or play
Games left unplayed must stay that way
I found such peace it made my day.
My parting has left you with a void,
So fill it with remembered joy
A friendship shared, your laugh, a kiss
Oh, yes, these things I too shall miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow
My life's been full, you've given so much
Your time, your love and gentle touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief
Lift up your ear and share with me
God wanted me. He set me free.
~Author Unknown
High up in the courts of heaven today
A little dog angel waits;
With the other angels he will not play,
But he sits alone at the gates.
For I know my master will come, says he,
And when he comes he will call for me.
The other angels pass him by
As they hurry towards the throne,
And he watches them with a wistful eye
As he sits at the gates alone.
But I know if I just wait patiently
That someday my master will call for me.
And his master, down on Earth below,
As he sits in his easy chair,
Forgets sometimes, and whispers low
To the dog, who is not there.
And the little dog angel cocks his ears,
And dreams that his master's voice he hears.
And when at last his master waits
Outside in the dark and cold,
For the hand of death to open the door,
That leads to those courts of gold,
He will hear a sound through the gathering dark,
A little dog angel's bark.
~Author Unknown
Where To Bury A Dog
There is one place that is best of all--
If you bury him in this spot,
the secret of which you must already have,
he will come to you when you call--
come to you over the grim,
dim frontiers of death, and down the
well-remembered path, and to your side again.
And though you call a dozen
living dogs to heel,
they shall not growl at him,
nor resent his coming,
for he is yours and he belongs there.
People may scoff at you,
who see no lightest blade of grass bent
by his footfall,
who hear no whimper
pitched too fine for audition,
people who may never really have had a dog.
Smile at them,
for you shall know something that is
hidden from them,
and which is well worth the knowing...
The best place to bury a dog
is in the heart of
his
master.
Have you a dog in heaven Lord?
and do you pat his head?
Does he sit up and beg each night
before he goes to bed?
Does he look up with shining eyes
when he sees your smiling face?
Does he wag his stubby little tail
when he wants to run a race?
Have you a dog in heaven, Lord?
Is there room for just one more?
Cause my little dog died today;
he'll be waiting at your door.
Please take him into heaven Lord.
and keep him there for me,
just feed him, pet him, love him Lord.
That's all he'll ask of thee.
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you
And the old life that we lived so fondly together
is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other,
That we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way
Which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh, as you always laughed, at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever
The household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort,
Without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is an absolute unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible incident?
Why should I be out of mind because
I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
Somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well.
~From a novel by Rosamond Pilcher
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