Often in the summer, as I go to or come from the vestry, I sit down
for a moment on the turf that covers my old friend Rodgers, and think
that this body of mine is everyday moldering away, til it shall fall a
heap of dust into it's appointed place. But what is that to me? It is
to me the drawing nigh of the fresh morning of life when I shall be
young and strong again, glad in the presence of the wise and beloved
dead, and unspeakably glad in the presence of God.

Autore: George MacDonald