There is a plan far greater than the plan you know;
There is a landscape broader than the one you see.
There is a haven where storm-tossed souls may go —
You call it death — we, immortality.

You call it death — this seemingly endless sleep;
We call it birth  the soul at last set free.
‘Tis hampered not by time or space — you weep.
Why weep at death? ‘Tis immortality.

Farewell, dear Voyageur — ’twill not be long.
Your work is done — now may peace rest with thee.
Your kindly thoughts and deeds — they will live on.
This is not death — ’tis immortality.

Farewell, dear voyageur — the river winds and turns;
The cadence of your song wafts near to me,
And now you know the thing that all men learn:
There is no death — there’s immortality.

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