The silent chair, the empty room,
The morning solemn as a tomb.
No tousled hair, or cheeky grin,
To greet us when we wander in.
Instead we cling to slumber, deep,
Without him here to steal our sleep.
We Sleepy Ones lay still at rest,
Our Early Bird has flown the nest.
For years his voice began the day –
Such little feet to lead the way.
But now he’s travelled on instead –
Such little hands to join the dead.
So now we force ourselves to wake
And greet each day, for Heaven’s sake,
Until we see, with unveiled eyes,
The dead in Christ, the first to rise.
(1 Thessalonians 4:16)