David ordered that The Song of the Bow be taught to the people of Judah; it is written in the Book of Jashar.) He said: Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places! How the mighty have fallen! Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon; or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice, the daughters of the uncircumcised will exult. You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields!* For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan did not turn back, nor the sword of Saul return empty. Saul and Jonathan, beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you with crimson, in luxury, who put ornaments of gold on your apparel. How the mighty have fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan lies slain upon your high places. I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!
FromThe Mirror of Charityby St. Aelred of Rievaulx
The recent death of my dear Simon forcibly drives me instead to weep for him. Perhaps this was the cause of that fear which disturbed my mind at night. Perhaps this was the cause of the nightmares which robbed me of needed rest; that is, that my most beloved friend was to be suddenly snatched from this earth. It is no wonder my mind had so disturbing a premonition of his death, since it took joy with such delight in his life. See how the fear which I feared has now overtaken me, how what I dreaded has come to pass. Why do I pretend? Why am I silent? Very likely because that tribulation still hovers above me. Let what is concealed in my heart spring to my eyes and to my tongue. If only, if only, yes, if only the heart of a mourner might exude in teardrops and rivulets of words the sorrow born in its inner depths.Have pity on me, have pity on me, if any of you are my friends, for the hand of the Lord has touched me.You are astonished that I am weeping; you are still more astonished that I go on living! For who would not be astonished that Aelred goes on living without Simon, except someone who does not know how sweet it was to live together, how sweet it would be to return together to the fatherland. So bear patiently with my tears, my sighs, the moaning of my heart, then.
And you, my beloved, although you have been brought into thejoy of the Lordalthough you feast with delight at the table of the great father of our family and in the kingdom of the Father with your Jesus are happily inebriated on that newfruit of the vine,still permit me to offer you my tears, to disclose my attachment to you and, if possible, topour out my whole spiritfor you. Do not forbid these tears which your memory evokes, my beloved brother. Let not my sighing burden you, for it is prompted not by despair but by attachment. Do not restrain my tears, which flow not from lack of faith but from tenderness. If you remember where you have arrived, what you have escaped, where you have left your close friend, you will assuredly realize how justified is my grief, how worthy of tears my wound. Let me alone, then, that L may assuage my sorrow. Mine, I say, mine, for your death is not to be wept over when it was preceded by a life so praiseworthy, so lovable, so pleasing to all, a life commended by your amazing conversion, your remarkable way of life, and your blessed perseverance.
All things belong to you, Lord. You consecrated the beginnings of his conversion by these marvels, you received afterwards the pleasing sacrifice of his devout life, and you have now mercifully transferred that most acceptable holocaust to your temple on high. There my Simon, my gentlest friend but your poor [servant], Lord Jesus, rests in the bosom of Abraham. There he rests transferred from death to life, from labor to rest, from misery to blessedness.
Musical Selection(Jimmy Scott)
If tears could build a stairway
And memories a lane
We'd walk right up to heaven
And bring you back again
It broke our hearts to lose you
But you did not go alone
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home
God looked around his garden
And he found an empty place
Then he looked down upon the earth
And he saw your precious face
He put his arms around you
And he lifted you to rest
God's garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best
Yes, he always takes the best
We knew that you were suffering
We knew you were in pain
We knew you'd never get well
On this earth again
So he closed your weary eyes, and
He whispered, "Peace be thine"
Then he took you up to heaven
So gentle, so kind
God looked around his garden
And he found an empty place
Then he looked down upon the earth
And he saw your precious face
He put his arms around you
And he lifted you to rest
God's garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best
Oh, God's garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best
Prayer
To you, O Lord, we commend the souls of your servants;
in the sight of this world they are now dead;
in your sight may they live for ever.
Forgive whatever sins they committed through human weakness
and in your goodness grant them everlasting peace.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,