RIP, Brother

Quiet hast thou gone, friend, to thy eternal rest.

Thy working tools are silent now, after a life of labor and test.

Beneath the valley’s silent clods may you finally take your ease,

before the Great White Throne may you be granted peace.

Unspotted is the apron laid upon thy final bed,

go now, into the joys of the Lord, with which thou art surely bles’t.