It was my stepfather's funeral on Friday and this picture and these words may not mean much to you, dear reader, but they mean a huge amount to my family and to the many many people who packed the church that day to honour, as many said, a true gentleman and a very very special person.
The Clock of Life by Robert H. Smith
The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
To lose one's wealth is sad indeed.
Too lose one's health is more.
To lose one's soul is such a loss
That no man can restore.
Today, only is our own.
So live, love and toil with a will.
Place no faith in tommorrow,
For the clock may soon be still.
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