-by Luther Beecher

I am standing upon the seashore.

A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and
starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of strength and beauty, and
I stand and watch her until she is only a ribbon of white cloud where
the sea and the sky seem to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, "There, she's gone!" Gone where? Gone
from my sight, that's all.

She is just as complete in mast and hull and spar as she was when she
left my side, and just as able to bear her precious freight to the
place of destination.

Her diminished appearance is in me - not in her. And at the very moment
when someone at my side says, "There, she's gone!", other voices shout
with gladness, "Here she comes!"

And that is death.

Death is only a horizon, and a horizon is the limit of our sight.

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