Death Is Nothing At All By Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918, Canon of St Paul’s Cathedral By Henry Scott Holland

Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room.

I am I, and you are you: whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you alway used.

Put no difference into your tone: wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was: there is absolutely unbroken continuity.

What is this death but a gateway? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near just around the corner.

All is well. Nothing is past; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Death is Nothing at All By Henry Scott Holland

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.