In the quiet whispers of the twilight dim, Where shadows dance and chances slim, May a prayer on the breeze be softly said: “May you be in heaven half an hour ahead.”
Before the devil knows, before he sees, Before your soul sets upon the fiery seas, May you ascend where angels tread, In celestial peace, your spirit led.
Through the gates of pearl and streets of gold, May your name in the Book of Life be boldly scrolled. And as the heavens embrace you in their stead, May joy be yours, and no tears shed.
Let the harps pluck a melody so sweet, A serenade for your arriving feet. Among the saints and the martyrs, may you glide, Half an hour in heaven, with God at your side.
So when the final breath escapes in a sigh, And the stars above dot the navy sky, May you find the grace as your days conclude,In paradise found, in quietude.
For life is a journey through storms and through calm, May your passage be blessed with a heavenly balm. And as tales are told and your story is read,“May you be in heaven half an hour,” it’s said.
"May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead" is an old Irish blessing
