Sunday, June 15, 2008


Not far from New York, in a cemetery lone,
Close guarding its grave, stands a simple headstone,
And all the inscription is one word alone --

It shews not the date of the silent one's birth,
Reveals not his frailties, nor lies of his worth,
But speaks out the tale from his few feet of earth --

And when from the heavens the Lord shall descend,
This stranger shall rise, and to glory ascend,
Well known and befriended, to sing without end --

by H. A. Ironside