WHEN DEATH HAS COME Florence Rowland When death has come and I have laid Aside this form of clay, Take not my body to the church, Make there no great display Of funeral service, form and flowers, To harrow hearts that’s sad, For if I’ve lived a faithful life, My soul will then be glad. If you would like to sing a song, Of comfort, hope and love, For those dear ones who sorrow here, To guide their thoughts above. Let it be one my mother sang To my long years ago, So full of pathos, love and trust Twill comfort them I know. If there’s a prayer within some heart, That’s humble, true and clean, Let it be offered for my friends, I will not need it then. The flowers you lay upon my grave, Will wither there and die, But flowers of never fading hue, Will bloom for one on high. Place not a towering monument, To mark my resting place; If I have sown kind words and deeds, ‘Ere I have run my race, My name will not forgotten be, By those I’ve left behind. The monuments I’ve raised in life Will live in heart and mind. So lay my lifeless form away, Omitting pomp and show, And as you pass unto the grave, With measured step and slow, I hope that in some trusting heart, My name will treasured be, Because of some kind work I spoke, Directing Lord to thee.