Mrs. Emma Jane Mgqwetho,

daughter of Zingelwa of the Cwerha clan,

much loved by the people

and by her children.

We give thanks, All-Mighty,

Thunder-and-They-Shudder:

the Mgqwetho home shuddered when you thundered,

you seized its central pillar

and left them bereft.

Grief cleft the Ngojis

when you seized this old woman

and showed in so doing

our home is not here.

When you blot out life

and people pass on,

teach us to look

to the kingdom of heaven.

All of Hackney

knew her as Mama:

she bore limitless love,

the selfsame heart,

for every creed.

Her arms enfolded

not only her children,

enfolded the children

of every nation. Mercy!

On blistered feet she made her rounds

to pray at the side of the sick.

Blessed are those who die in the Lord,

whose sins are washed in the blood of the Lamb.

Mercy!

She expressed compassion,

incessantly praying

for Joburg's children

in the land of horrors.

Lord of all creatures,

you summoned your servant in peace,

as we suffer her death

may our lives be illumined!

The Chizama blanket's folded

with no one to wear it today.

Oh, Death, you're the foe,

with your bow and arrows.

In prayer for the world

this mother of ours

would sing a sweet song of praise;

inside the walls of our home resounded,

the people outside grew lean.

She swayed us with her prayers,

the wayward found new paths,

even those who shunned you, Father,

now perceived their splendour.

She grazed homewards to Jerusalem,

for her a haven of peace;

with callused feet this cow elephant

smoothed life's path for us.

Torrent whose kindness

flushed river courses,

gush today

in springs above Jordan.

God is love indeed,

but Mama's love of people

was Hermon's morning dews

bathing Zion's hills.

The light of her love

cascaded like willows,

edged with lilies,

sustained by water.

Death, you're heartless,

unperturbed;

a torrent of tears

leaves you unmoved.