For everything there is a season,
and a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to break down and a time to build up;
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek and a time to lose;
A time to keep and a time to cast away;
A time to rend and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence and a time to speak;
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.
For everything there is a season,
and a time for every matter under heaven.

— Ecclesiastes, 3: 1-8

Let us be honest with death. Let us not pretend that it is less than it is. It is separation. It is sorrow. It is grief. But let us neither pretend that death is more than it is. It is not annihilation. As long as memory endures, [her/his/their] influence will be felt. It is not an end to love—humanity’s need for love from each of us is boundless. It is not an end to joy and laughter—nothing would less honor a [gentle/kind/vibrant/ other appropriate adjectives that describe the deceased could be substituted] soul than to make our lives drab in counterfeit respect. Let us be honest with death, for in that honesty we will understand [her/him/them] better and ourselves more deeply.

— Source Unknown

No one entering this world can ever escape sadness. Each in turn must bear burdens, though he or she be rich or poor, and in turn bid loved ones farewell as they set out upon life’s ventures. Each one must suffer that sad farewell when loved ones embark on the last voyage, and each in turn must take that final journey. But for those who make this life a pledge to the spirit, there comes the assurance of a victory that shall redeem life’s pain.

(Light candle or chalice.)

Though our spirit be but the feeble glow of a single flame, for the one who keeps it burning bravely to the end, death is not defeat. We light our [candle/chalice] today to honor the life and living of [name of deceased                                                           ].

— Robert Terry Weston (adapted)

We have gathered here [describe setting, e.g., in this place of human aspiration and hope/ in this beautiful setting] to acknowledge the death of [name of deceased], whom we have known and loved. When someone we have cared for dies, [describe situation of death, e.g., especially as in this case after a long and fulfilling life / especially as in this case when death has come tragically/ prematurely], family and friends gather with sorrow in their hearts. At times when we must face death and loss, we need one another’s company for understanding and support. Just to be together, to look into one another’s faces, takes away some of our loneliness and draws our hearts together in the healing which we can offer one another. At such times, the various faiths that sustain us separately come together in a harmony that acts across all creeds and assures us of the permanence of human goodness and hope.

So we have gathered here today in grief and sorrow, but we have also gathered to celebrate a life. We have come together to give thanks that we knew this [appropriate adjective, e.g., gentle/caring/ fine/decent] person, to express our gratitude for the days and years we were able to share with [her/him/them]. We are here to remember and memorialize a [describe the outstanding personal qualities of the deceased with several adjectives, e.g., good/gentle/caring/loyal] life. By remembering the best of this person, by recalling some of [her/his] finest qualities, by honoring the principles, values, and dreams which guided [her/his/their] life, some of [name of deceased]’s enduring nobility flows into us, that we ourselves might be more noble in the days ahead.

We are here for all these things. But our first spiritual task is to face, full and unafraid, the reality of this death, and the grief and loss we feel.

— Scott W. Alexander

“When sorrow comes, let us accept it simply, as a part of life. Let the heart be open to pain; let it be stretched by it. All the evidence we have says that this is the better way. An open heart never grows bitter. Or if it does, it cannot remain so. In the desolate hour there is an outcry, a clenching of the hands upon emptiness, a burning pain of bereavement, a weary ache of loss. But anguish, like ecstasy, is not forever. There comes a gentleness, a returning quietness, a restoring stillness. This, too, is a door to life. Here, also, is a deepening of meaning—and it can lead to dedication, a going forward to the triumph of the soul, the conquering of the wilderness. In the process will come a deepening inward knowledge that, in the final reckoning, all is well.”

— A. Powell Davies

“This death of the body, is it not in the natural order of things in the physical universe? Behold the flowers of the field. They bloom for a brief season and then wither away. The birds of the air, they ascend for their last flight, then descend to fold their wings and find peace in their nest, even the peace of death. So, too, it is with the beasts of the forest. When their time is come, they seek out some quiet, secluded spot, make their last lair, and lay them down there to die; unafraid they, and unashamed…. What are we that we should think to escape this common destiny of all earthly things, or resent this final blow of fate called death?”

— Frank Carleton Doan

“In the presence of death, we must continue to sing the song of life. We must be able to accept death and go from its presence better able to bear our burdens and to lighten the load of others. Out of our sorrows should come understanding. Through our sorrows we join with all of those before us who have had to suffer and all of those who will yet have to do so. Let us not be gripped by the fear of death. If another day be added to our lives, let us joyfully receive it, but let us not anxiously depend on our tomorrows. Though we grieve the deaths of our loved ones, we accept them and hold on to our mem­ories as precious gifts. Let us make the best of our loved ones while they are with us, and let us not bury our love with death.”

— Source (Adapted)

When Death Comes for the Very Aged

There is, it seems, something tenderly appropriate in the death of the very aged. When the duties of life have all been done; when the sun touches the horizon; when the purple twilight falls upon the past, the present, and the future; when memory with dim eyes can no longer easily spell the blurred and faded records of the vanished days—then death comes like a strain of music. The road has been long, the journey difficult, and the traveler stops at the welcoming inn.

— Robert Ingersoll

When Death Comes Prematurely

Leaves should not fall in early summer. Winter should not follow on the heels of spring. Yet when they do, we can and must speak for life. For there is no answer to death but to live vigorously and beautifully. We give respect and dignity to the one we mourn only when we respect and dignify life and move toward its richest fulfillment.

— Angus MacLean

The morning glory that blooms for an hour
Differs not at heart
From the giant pine that lives for a thousand years.

— Zen Proverb

When Death Comes by Suicide

We come here bearing our grief and perhaps feeling bruised by this death and what we might have done to prevent it. Remember that no single act of desperation can portray a life. No matter how stalked by hurt, this life also had its moments of delight and happiness, caring and friendship, sharing and love. Let us be daring enough never to forget these.

Let us admit the deep truth that none of us carries enough concern for our brothers and sisters on this earth. We try with our best resources, with what we can bring to bear, with what we can lavish out of self at the time. But sometimes it may not be enough, though our failures are not through callousness.

Self-death does not mean life denial, but it is the cry of despair for more life. It is the refusal to crawl forever through the yawning caverns of pain and absurdity. The battle may be long and arduous, leaving a personal sense of alienation after an epic conflict within the self. Whenever a death cuts across a life, we are left with a certain incompleteness. We know that [she/he/they] leaves much unfinished, unfulfilled, unsaid. There are yet other things we wanted to share with [her/him/them], and [she/he/them] with us. But what has been must suffice. What is and cannot be changed must be accepted. We are simply thankful that we could know and partake in the journey of life with [her/him], for it has enriched us all.

— Peter Raible

When Death Comes to a “Difficult” Person

And because [name of deceased] sometimes had a difficult time with life and others, this reading from Margaret Bruner:

“Say this of me, if something need be said,
when from this house of clay my soul has fled;
say that I tried,
but could not always keep the high resolve.
The road was very steep,
and often when I needed poise and strength I faltered on the last,
hard, mountainous length.
If I had foes, I have forgiven them,
but this is worthy of no diadem.
And if by some I was misunderstood,
to these I leave a wish that all good things may be their portion.
Know for every wrong I did, I paid in agony.
In song I poured my heart’s blood out to make amend.
I speak these words to kindred and friend.
Grant me compassion now that life has passed,
and pray my spirit finds peace at last.”

When Death Comes to Someone the Service Leader Doesn’t Know

I share with you the agony of your grief; the anguish of your heart
finds echo in my own. I know I cannot enter all you feel nor bear with you the burden of your pain; I can but offer what my love does give: the strength of caring, the warmth of one who seeks to understand the silent storm-swept barrenness of so great a loss.
This I do in quiet ways, that on your lonely path you may not walk alone.

— Howard Thurman

The most effective way to write a eulogy is to gather family members and close friends of the deceased and ask them to tell their favorite stories about the person they have lost. The service leader can look for themes amongst these stories, such as the person’s generosity, adventurousness, care for family, etc. Using examples drawn from the stories the worship leader can describe the deceased, letting the theme of what particularly characterized the person provide a through-line.

(Following Eulogy, leader says:) These, then, are a few of [our/my] thoughts and remembrances of [name of deceased]. Whether or not [I/we] have succeeded in accurately portraying [her/his] life, it is surely as Charles Gaines has written:

“No person can sum up the life of another. Life is too precious to be passed over with mere words which ring empty. Rather it must remain as it is remembered by those who loved and watched and shared. For such memories are alive, unbound by events of birth and death. And as living memories, we possess the greatest gift one person can give another.”

It is to each of you, then, that the living memories of [name of  de­ceased]’s life are committed. To your hearts and minds go the enduring remembrances of this life. There will now be a period of [silence/musical meditation]. I ask that each of you use these moments to remember [name of deceased] as only you can. Let us enter this meditation reverently, and with love.

(End the meditation after 1 to 3 minutes with:) Amen.

You may wish to have selected friends or family members share their stories of the deceased, and/or invite all in attendance to share if they wish. The words below are an example of how you might  invite participation.

The poet Muriel Rukeyser wrote that “The universe is made of stories, not atoms.” Our stories of [name of deceased] are the atoms of her/his life now. In telling the stories of [name of deceased]’s life we hold her/him in the universe of our hearts. If you are so moved, I invite you to come forward and share a brief story that exemplifies who [name of deceased] was to you, and the gifts s/he brought to your life.

Death closes a door, tearing one we loved from us, and there is no denying that waves of grief will come, and times when we will ache for the words, the touch, the laugh that we will never have again. But if the world is now colder for our loss, we may wrap ourselves in the warmth of love, knowing that love is stronger than death, and that we are stronger for holding on to love.

Life is worth the living. It is good and it is beautiful, in spite of the tragedy with which it is forever beset. We glory in life, undergirded by the faith that its goodness is pervasive, that it is part of the texture of life, that it is of the essence of the nature of things. This is a profound faith, this confidence in life, more profound than we perhaps suspect, because it stands upon faith and faith alone. There is no proof for it, no objective test to support it, except the living of life itself, but this is perhaps the best test of all. And so we go on, those who have known sorrow and those who have not, strong in the faith that life is somehow good, even though we do not always understand it. We go on, no matter what befalls us, doing the right, following the true and the good. We go on, living the life we are given to live, knowing that it is a good life, however difficult it may at times seem to be. And in so living, we shall find that our faith is not false, that life is good to those who live it with serenity and fortitude.

— Duncan Howlett, adapted

We are glad that [name of deceased] lived. We are glad that we saw [her/his/their] face and felt the glow of [her/his/their] friendship and love. We cherish the memory of [her/his/their] words and deeds and character. Carrying [her/him] thus in our hearts, let us now go from this place in comfort and peace, assured that even in this time of loss and sorrow, life remains precious and good. May we also on this day rekindle in our hearts an appreciation for the gifts of life and other persons.

Let us honor the life of [name of deceased] by living, ourselves, more nobly and lovingly in the days ahead. As you return to the routines of your lives, go in great peace, dear friends, and may [God/an abiding peace] go with you. Amen.

Life burns us up like a fire,
And song goes up in flame;
The body returns in ashes
To the ashes whence it came.

Out of things it rises,
And laughs, and loves, and sings;
Slowly it subsides
Into the char of things.

Yet a voice soars above it­—
Love is great and strong;
The best of us forever
Escapes, in love and song.

— John Hall Wheelock