Yea, Tho I Walk Through The Valley of ...

Yea, tho I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil PS 23:4

Yesterday I wrote for those who might think of choosing death. Today I write for those whom death has chosen. It can be a most difficult time. The answer to yesterday’s anxieties was the knowledge that “you are not alone”. It is the answer to today’s also.

I know friends and neighbors who are on their last journey. They know not the day nor the hour, but they know it is soon, very soon. Sometimes when I pray, words just won’t come to me, but I know that God can read them my heart. Sometimes, however, the words just cannot remain unsaid. I need to hear them. I need to know and feel that the words are right, that they reach deep enough into my fears, and into my hopes. Anyone close to death needs to find this comfort also.

The below poem-prayers are from my Liturgy of the Hours. I read the first one once or twice a week to remind myself of where I am in life’s journey. I read the second to remind myself where I am going. They are well-written. When I read them, I know they are the words which would be in my heart in my final days and hours.

Perhaps you might wish to forward them to someone you know, who is near the end of his journey, who needs to pray – and hear – these words in his heart, and make use of them to ease his anxieties, to comfort his soul.


Abide With Me

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.

Hold thou thy Cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
H. F. Lyte


His Litany to the Holy Spirit
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drowned in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the artless Doctor sees
No one hope but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When his potion and his pill,
His, or none, or little skill,
Meet for nothing but to kill,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal,
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And the numbers more than true,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
‘Cause my speech is now decayed,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When (God knows) I’m tossed about,
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the Tempter me pursu’th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the flames of hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!

When the judgment is revealed,
And that opened which was sealed,
When to thee I have appealed,
Sweet Spirit comfort me!
Robert Herrick