A Parishioner's Mourning

A man in life,
A saint in heaven.
Ye had no sins,
Of the seven.

The mountains shook,
As ye spoke,
Of a fire,
With no smoke.

Thy eyes saw,
And they stared.
Our sins were cleansed,
From thy glare.

Wise as an owl,
Tall as a tree.
Thy soul sprout wings,
As it left thee.

Father Time,
Came and went.
'Twas thy life,
That was spent.

I saw ye,
Fall and lie,
Clutching thy heart,
As ye died.

Free of guilt,
Pure of lust.
Our Lord called,
For thy life with no rust.

'Tis true,
We all learn,
We came from dust,
And to dust we shall return.