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Resting in the bosom of Jesus

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Resting in the bosom of Jesus Francis MagalonaFUNFARE By Ricardo F. Lo
April 08, 2009 12:00 AM 

This poster/tarpaulin was done by Funfare reader ‘Reil,’ an avid fan of Francis Magalona from Cebu. It depicts ‘one love’ represented by three stars and a sun, and highlights the three principles Francis advocated in his life — Kababayan, Kaunlaran and Kapayapaan.
| Zoom It’s the Lenten season, the best time for us to reflect on our mortality.

It’s the first time for the likes of Lorna Tolentino (widow of Rudy Fernandez) and Pia Arroyo-Magalona (of Francis Magalona) to spend the Holy Week minus a member of the family, and the following quotation, poem and verse might help lighten the burden.

From Gen. George Patton Jr. (sent by reader Ivy M. Avino): It is wrong and foolish to mourn the men who died...It is rather that we should thank God that such men lived.

Meanwhile, reader Ed Dames shares with his fellow Funfare readers a poem which he said he “personalized for Francis.”

Go Down, Death!*

By James Weldon Johnson


Weep not, weep not

He is not dead

He’s resting in the bosom of Jesus

Heart-broken wife — weep no more

Grief-stricken sons and daughters — weep no more

He’s only just gone home.


Early Tuesday morning

God was looking down from His great, high heavens

Looking down on all His children

And His eyes fell on papa Greg

Tossing on his bed of pain

And God’s big heart was touched with pity

With the everlasting pity


And God sat back on His throne

And He commanded that tall, bright angel

Standing on His right hand

Call me Death!

And that tall, bright angel cried in a voice

That broke like a clap of thunder

Call Death! Call Death!

And the echo sounded down the street of heaven

Till it reached away back, back to that shadowy place

Where Death waits with his pale, white horse.


And Death heard the summons

And he leaped on his fastest horse

Pale as a sheet in the moonlight

Up the golden street Death galloped

And hoofs of his horse struck fire from the gold

But they didn’t make no sound

Up Death rode to the Great White Throne

And waited for God’s command


And God said, Go down, Death, go down

Go down to the Philippines

Down to Medical City in Pasig

And find my son Kiko Magalona

He has borne the burden and heat of the day

He has labored long in my vineyard

And he is tired

He is weary

Go down, Death, and bring him to me.


And Death did not say a word

But he loosed the reins on his pale, white horse

And he clamped the spurs to his bloodless sides

And out and down he rode

Through heaven’s pearly gates

Past suns and moons and stars

On Death rode

And the foam from his horse was like a comet in the sky

On Death rode

Leaving the lightning’s flash behind

Straight down he came.


While his loving but tired wife held his hand

Kiko turned his eyes and looked away

He saw what we couldn’t see

He saw old Death. He saw old Death

Coming like a falling star

But Death didn’t frighten Kiko

He looked to him like a welcome friend

And even in silence his eyes told us: I’m going home

And he sighed and closed his eyes.


And Death took him up like a baby

And he lay in his icy arms

But he didn’t feel no chill

And Death began to ride again

Up beyond the evening star

Into the glittering light of glory

On to the Great White Throne

And there he lay

On the loving breast of Jesus.


And Jesus took His own hand and wiped away his tears

And He smoothed the furrows from his face

And the angels sang a little song

And Jesus rocked him in His arms

And kept-a-saying: Take your rest

Take your rest, take your rest


Weep not — weep not

He is not dead; we did not lose him

We know where he is

He is resting in the bosom of Jesus


(*personalized for FrancisM)

And also from reader Ivy M. Avino, this verse which Funfare has published before but is worth re-reading.

Live A Life That Matters


Ready or not, someday it will come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned, or what you were owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will disappear.

So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won’t matter where you came from, or what side of the tracks you lived, at the end.


It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant;

Even your gender or your skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter?

How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built;

Not what you got, but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success but your significance.

What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is your every act of integrity, compassion, courage, or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others — to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew,


But how many people will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.

What will matter is not your memories,

But the memories that live in those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom, and for what.


Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.

It’s not a matter of circumstance, but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.

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