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© Godric Godricson
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18th and 19th Century graves. Necton Parish Church
"Both the rich man and the poor man die, and both are salted for the pit" [Maltese saying]
Deny it, Envy, if you can;True to his business and his trust,
Always punctual, always just;
His horses, could they speak, would tell
They loved their good old master well.
His up-hill work is chiefly done,
His stage is ended, race is run;
One journey is remaining still,
To climb up Sion’s holy hill.
And now his faults are all forgiven,
Elijah-like, drives up to heaven,
Takes the reward of all his pains,
And leaves to other hands the reins.
Is sin eternal or does the tariff of sin change?
© Godric Godricson
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The cemetery as a place of community
© Godric Godricson
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Saint Botolph Banningham
© Godric Godricson
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James Whitby d. 6th September 1825
© Godric Godricson
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Here lies a head that often ached;Here lie two hands that always shak’d;Here lies a brain of odd conceit;Here lies a heart that often beat;Here lie two eyes that dimly wept,
And in the night but seldom slept;
Here lies a tongue that whining talk’d;—Here lie two feet that feebly walked;
Here lie the midriff and the breast,
With loads of indigestion prest;
Here lives the liver full of bile,
That ne’er secreted proper chyle;
Here lie the bowels, human tripes,
Tortured with wind and twisting gripes;
Here lies the livid dab, the spleen,
The source of life’s sad tragic scene,
That left side weight that clogs the blood,
And stagnates Nature’s circling flood;
Here lies the back, oft racked with pains,
Corroding kidneys, loins, and reins;
Here lies the skin by scurvy fed,
With pimples and irruptions red;
Here lies the man from top to toe,
That fabric fram’d for pain and woe.