Tuesday, September 11, 2001
I came to a spot
where a white pilgrim lay
And pensively stood by his tomb.
And in a low whisper a voice seemed to say
How sweetly I rest here alone.
The tempest may howl and the loud thunders roll
Dark gathering storms shall arise;
But the same God that led me through storms dark and drear
Has kindly conducted me home.
- anonymous poem recited
by Frank Church,
from the recollections of Esther Church Bierwirth