Some people don’t like soldiers. But I’m not those people.
Memorial Day is coming fast and one way to honor soldiers who died while defending the freedoms we take for granted each day is to remember them.
To say their names, share their sacrifice, shoulder a little of the burden they’re suffering, and remember the ones who are only known to the Lord.
And this is where you’ll find 23 of the best Memorial Day poems for church to honor the brave soldiers who died for you and me.
You can share these poems over the pulpit, have a moment of silence with your congregation, or include a poem on the back of your church bulletin.
However you choose to use these poems, the important thing is to remember and honor those who gave their lives for our freedom.
Here Are The Most Heartfelt Memorial Day Poems For Church
This is something you need to know.
Each of these poems was written by someone who survived the battlefield or by loved ones grieving the loss of their soldier.
I hope the Lord touches your heart as much as He did mine while you read these poems.
The Death of a Soldier
by Wallace Stevens
Life contracts and death is expected,
As in a season of autumn.
The soldier falls.
He does not become a three-days personage,
Imposing his separation,
Calling for pomp.
Death is absolute and without memorial,
As in a season of autumn,
When the wind stops,
When the wind stops and, over the heavens,
The clouds go, nevertheless,
In their direction.
This Memorial Day
by LTC RET, Samuel Lombardo
This is Memorial Day
In our land of the free.
It’s because of those who sacrificed
Whose graves you’re here to see.
They fought on foreign lands
And across the open sea,
And paid the ultimate price
To keep you and I free.
So put all things aside
And honor this important day,
Which we have dedicated
As our Memorial Day.
O Captain! My Captain
by Walt Whitman
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Remember a Soldier Today
by Kathy J. Parenteau in memory of Nicholas A. Taylor (1991-2012)
He marches in God’s army now but once
upon a time,
With valor he fought long and proud
our freedom on his mind.
Leaving loved ones far behind he treaded
foreign land,
Defending peace and liberty
an honorable young man.
The world may never know him
or the sacrifice he made,
So I ask you take a moment
and remember a soldier today.
A Day To Remember
unknown author
There is a day we stop and remember,
The men who fought with bravery.
Those who shed their blood and lost their lives,
So our country could live in liberty.
There is a day we stop and remember
The colors that we love.
The red, white and blue of freedom,
That fit our country like a glove.
White for purity of purpose,
Red for valor during battle,
Blue for justice paid to those who threaten us,
Are the gifts our Lord blessed upon our men.
There is a day we stop and remember,
That our men have not died in vain.
For after every battle is won,
Our country’s standards reign.
Wave a flag,
Place a flower upon a grave,
Say a prayer of thanks on Memorial Day.
For the price of freedom was freely paid.
Bury Me With Soldiers
by Charles R. Fink of the 199TH Light Infantry
I’ve played a lot of roles in life;
I’ve met a lot of men.
I’ve done some things I’d like to think
I wouldn’t do again.
And though I’m young, I’m old enough
to know some day I’ll die,
And to think about what lies beyond,
beside whom I would lie.
Perhaps it doesn’t matter much;
still, if I had my choice,
I’d want a grave ‘mongst soldiers when
at last death quells my voice.
I’m sick of the hypocrisy
of lectures of the wise.
I’ll take the man, with all the flaws,
who goes, though scared, and dies.
The troops I knew were commonplace
they didn’t want the war;
They fought because their fathers and
their fathers had before.
They cursed and killed and wept—
they’re easy to deride–
But bury me with men like these;
they faced the guns and died.
It’s funny when you think of it,
the way we got along.
We’d come from different worlds
to live in one no one belongs.
I didn’t even like them all;
I’m sure they’d all agree.
yet I would give my life for them,
I hope; some did for me.
So bury me with soldiers, please,
though much maligned they be.
Yes, bury me with soldiers, for
I miss their company.
We’ll not soon see their like again;
we’ve had our fill of war.
But bury me with men like them
’till someone else does more.
We Remember Them
by Sylvan Kamens & Rabbi Jack Riemer
At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn; We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends; We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as We remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength; We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart; We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make; We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share; We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs; We remember them.
For as long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as, We remember them.
Field of Poppies
by Isabelle Hammersley
Row upon row the poppies grow,
Each one a symbol to brave men we will never know.
They stood before us, they stood up straight,
For they were the men, the brave and the great.
The seasons come and the seasons go,
But unlike these men, the poppies will always grow.
We should always wear our poppies with pride
In tribute to those that fought and died.
The Dying Soldier
by Mary F. Harmon
in mourning of Philip Hamlin of the 1st Minnesota, killed on July 3, 1863 at the battle of Gettysburg.
When our country called for succor,
Bidding home and friends farewell,
Fearing not to give his young life,
For his country loved so well,
He was noble in his actions,
Dutiful to parents dear,
Gentle, loving kind, forbearing,
Ah, how much they miss him here.
Where the battle raged the wildest,
In the thickest of the fight,
Fell he like a hero, bravely,
Proudly battling for the right.
Far away from home and kindred,
Loving Mother, Father dear,
Gentle Sister, youthful Brothers,
Ne’er again his voice shall hear.
Soon there came a white-winged missive,
Written by a friendly hand.
Fraught with words of tender solace
To that stricken family band.
“Tis a task to write this letter,
Painful news have I to tell,
On the second day of battle,
Sergeant Philip Hamlin fell.
From his bowed head I severed
One dark tress of waving hair.
Tore a bit from off his colors,
Folded them with reverent care.
‘Neath the shadow of the wildwood
There we made his lowly bed.
Left him there to rest unbroken
With the silent nameless dead.
Here’s the small but sacred token;
Well I know his Mother’s heart.
Will be cheered by this memento
Though from him she’s called to part.”
Death for Philip had no terrors.
He was strong in faith and love.
Hopeful, trusting, patient ever,
Living for his home above.
Father, Mother, all ye loved ones,
Though you meet on earth no more
Far from war and raging tumult,
Safe you’ll meet on Canaan’s shore.
God Bless Our Native Land
by Frances E.W. Harper
God bless our native land,
Land of the newly free,
Oh may she ever stand
For truth and liberty.
God bless our native land,
Where sleep our kindred dead,
Let peace at thy command
Above their graves be shed.
God help our native land,
Bring surcease to her strife,
And shower from thy hand
A more abundant life.
God bless our native land,
Her homes and children bless,
Oh may she ever stand
For truth and righteousness.
Ballad Of A Dead Soldier Poem
by Wellington Tichagwa
I honoured thy mother,
And went to war for thy brother.
Laying in a grave, my military thoughts shall be remembered.
I conquered the unconquered,
Embarked on a fierce endless journey,
Where the agricultural land was covered with dead bodies,
On which bullets had fallen from the barrels of the guns like raindrops.
I still cry for brothers and sisters who died before their time.
If only anyone thought of what I died for! ,
The world would have been in one peace.
In my grave, I still have hope.
Hope that one day you will realize my very only vision.
Regrettably, only spirit is left of me,
It is accurate that no one should be trusted,
I was betrayed by those I called my own.
Today, they are happy that I ceased to be.
They are happy not to witness world as one body.
I desire everyone could see what I died for.
The Young Dead Soldiers Do Not Speak
unknown author
Nevertheless they are heard in the still houses: who has not heard them?
They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.
They say, We were young. We have died. Remember us.
They say, We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.
They say, We have given our lives but until it is finished no one can know what our lives gave.
They say, Our deaths are not ours: they are yours: they will mean what you make them.
They say, Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say: it is you who must say this.
They say, We leave you our deaths: give them their meaning: give them an end to the war and a true peace: give them a victory that ends the war and a peace afterwards: give them their meaning.
We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us.
A Veteran Died Today
unknown author
He was getting old and paunchy, and his hair was falling fast; and he sat around the post home, telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in the deeds that he had done; sharing exploits with his buddies, all were heroes, everyone.
And ‘thos sometimes to his neighbors, his tales became a joke, all his comrades listened, for they know whereof he spoke.
But, we’ll hear his tales no longer, of ol’ Bob has passed away, and the world’s a little poorer, for a Veteran died today.
No, he won’t be mourned by many, just his children and his wife, for bob lived a plain and ordinary sort of life.
He held a job, raised a family, and quietly went his way, and the world won’t note his passing, ‘tho a Veteran died today.
See, when politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state, while thousands note their passing, and proclaim that they were great.
Their life stories are grandly told, from the time they were young, but the passing of a Veteran goes unnoticed, and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land, some jerk who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary person, who in times of war and strife, goes off to serve this Country and offers up his life?
Now, the politician’s salary and the style in which he lives, are sometimes disproportionate to the services he gives.
While the ordinary Veteran who offered up his all, is paid off with a medal and, perhaps, a pension small.
It’s so easy to forget them, for it was so long ago, that our Bobs, Jims, and Larrys went to battle, that we know.
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys, who won for us the freedom that our Nation now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger, with an enemy at hand, would you really want some “cop out” with his wishy-washy stand?
Or, would you want a Veteran who swore he would defend GOD, COUNTRY, FAMILY, and would fight until the end.
Yes, he was just a common Veteran and his ranks are growing thin, but his presence still remind us, we may need his kind again.
For when foreigners are in trouble, then the Military’s part, is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.
So, if we cannot do him honor, while he’s here to hear the praise, then at least let’s pay him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps a simple headline in the paper that might say.
OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING
FOR A VETERAN DIED TODAY.
Remembering The Fallen Soldier
unknown author
We honor those who fought and died,
Their memory, a flame that won’t subside.
In the gallery of heroes, their portraits dwell,
In the tapestry of valor, their stories swell.
They gave their all, with a resolute will,
In war’s dark shadow, they fought uphill.
They gave it well, on the battlefield,
For freedom’s sake, their fate was sealed.
In the quiet moments, when the bugle calls,
Remembering the fallen, as the night falls.
Their sacrifice, a poignant song,
In the memories that echo, strong and long.
In the heart’s sacred chamber, their names inscribed,
Remembering the fallen, in gratitude imbibed.
Their courage, a beacon in history’s retelling,
In the quiet places, where heroes are dwelling.
Independence Day
by Gary Jacobson
Give a hearty cheer
For those who shed their blood for you.
When the red, white and blue
Streaks the sky,
Remember those who for their flag
On faraway soil did bleed and die…
Die that our children might in this land breathe free
In this hallowed land of liberty.
For America’s great destiny
Lies in its right to choose.
Honor our forefather’s brave precepts
Or our brave country lose.
So ever hail the red, white and blue,
That on this day brings a teary eyed dew.
Raise her banners high and higher,
Celebrate with fireworks last gleaming fire,
The rockets red glare,
The bombs bursting in air.
Unfurled in the stars and stripes might
We fervently pray
Never in vain will have been our fight.
For with duty
We offered our most revered birthright.
Vet’s honored our grand old flag
With supreme patriotism
For freedom fought
With gallant heroism
Now we pray with sacrifices given stalwartly
Our flag will fly on into the annals of history
Flying forever over the land of the free…
Waving over the home of the brave…
A Mother’s Tear
by Amy Peterson
There’s more to the story,
than what just appears.
A war written story,
from blood and from tears.
My son went to war,
a very proud man.
He fought in Iraq,
on the hot desert sands.
He witnessed his buddies,
his comrades, his men,
bleeding and dying,
he witnessed their end.
Where is Pvt. Tommy?
He’s blown up all around,
his comrades spent hours,
picking him from the ground.
Sleeping in holes,
dug in the sand,
dreaming of home,
but it’s become foreign land.
He can’t tell his enemy,
from family or foe,
as he watches his friends sent out,
with tags on their toe.
He knows his Mama,
is sleepless like him,
and he tries to send word,
whenever he can.
He tries not to worry,
his family at home,
the horror that he faces,
he faces alone.
His mission is over,
he’s sent back to me,
he fought for our freedom,
but he’ll never be free.
He yearns for his buddies,
that died over there.
He’s caught with the living,
in a doubled looped snare.
He screams in the night,
for the battle still roars,
as he lays in his bed,
he re-lives all the horror.
Nobody heard the fight,
he still fights,
except for his Mama,
who comforts him every night.
He never will be,
the son I once knew,
the war killed that part,
for freedom, for you.
Great Nation, Great Leaders,
and all those who will hear,
Freedom began
on a mother’s first tear.
Just Souls
by Nancy L. Meek
Lift up your voice. Follow me
Thank the ones who kept us free
Whether home field or Isle of Nam
Offer prayers and an open palm
Salute the brave, the tried, the true
Who loved Liberty through and through
Who clutched the torch and held it high
Who ran with it to the battle cry
For souls like me and you
Who loved our country more than self
Left comfort home upon a shelf
Risked it all for freedom’s hue
Doing, of course, what they had to do
For souls like me and you
We have a choice. Follow them
In faith; pave the way for future men
Light of hope around them pearled
Or live oppressed in a bitter world
Evil is still alive on planet Earth
Caring not for Freedom’s worth
Peace and Love beyond their grasp
Doomed to Hell’s eternal lock and hasp
The soldiers die. The poppies blow
Toward Heaven’s fields, row-by-row
Plucked from Earth; and by and by
We, each, will reach beyond the sky
To touch a petal where poppies grow
Just souls like you and I.
A Soldier’s Sacrifice
unknown author
He fought for freedom, a warrior so brave,
He fought through the day, his spirit to save.
He fought through the night, with courage untold,
In the story of honor, his tale unfolds.
He gave his all, in the field of strife,
His dedication cut through, like a sharpened knife.
His very best, in the face of the test,
A soldier’s sacrifice, in the heart’s solemn quest.
In the echoes of battle, where memories persist,
A soldier’s sacrifice, in the annals exists.
His life laid down, a poignant display,
For freedom’s cause, he found his way.
In the hallowed ground, where heroes rest,
His legacy lives on, forever blessed.
A soldier’s sacrifice, engraved in history,
In the embrace of valor, he found his victory.
The Cost Of Freedom
unknown author
We honor those who paid the price
For freedom’s sake, they gave their life
Their sacrifice we can’t forget
For freedom’s cause, they paid the debt
Their sacrifice, etched in the annals of fate,
A cost of freedom, heavy and great.
In the silence of remembrance, we bow our head,
For the ones who sleep, in freedom’s bed.
Their life, the currency for liberty’s plea,
The cost of freedom, for all to see.
In the echoes of gratitude, their voices linger,
A cost paid in blood, by freedom’s bringer.
To Them We Owe
by Don Nielsen
Happened today, and in the past;
Sacrifice made, for ours to last.
Wives to widows, families torn;
Gave their lives, for them we mourn.
Gone forever, souls are lost;
Freedom comes, with this cost.
Enjoy the life, they did preserve;
Fate they suffered, did not deserve.
On this day, lest we forget;
To them we owe, our life in debt.
The Fallen
by Randall West
Fragile is a single life the brave so freely give.
Bound for immortality, their souls will surely live.
Death, don’t be proud for what you took, they freely gave away.
Their quest for freedom far outweighed the fear that you convey.
They joined the ranks of warriors, staying vigil day and night.
They often skipped a meal or two, but they never missed a fight.
God bless the men and women whose fighting days are done.
Say a special prayer at night for each and every one.
Rest assured that you will find throughout the coming years
These fallen warriors will return in the hearts of all their peers!
If we forget their sacrifice, their deaths will be in vain.
Let’s stand beside their loved ones as we sing their last refrain:
You’ve come upon our heaven’s gate
You surely won’t have long to wait.
The saints will take good care of you,
But there is still a lot to do.
You’ve joined the ranks of everyone
Who fought so freedom could be won.
Although your job on earth is done,
Your work in heaven’s just begun.
Memorial Day Poem
by Everett C. Goodwin
I went to the grave of a fallen soldier
we will never know of medals he was the holder
Fighting in air on land and sea
he had given his life so we all could be free
His fight had started in seventy-six
all branches of the service were his pick
His first march was to the beat of a drum
using only a flint lock gun
Called up to duty into many wars
landed upon so many foreign shores
Going forward and giving his all
never has a soldier stood so tall
Unknown will always adorn his grave
he was born in the home of the brave
My fellow veteran, now rest in peace
as we pray that all wars will someday cease.
No one who knows the pains of battle and the loss of brothers in arms can ever forget the significance of Memorial Day. It’s a day to honor those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, and to remember that freedom is never free.
As we enjoy our time with family and friends, let us also take a moment to reflect on the sacrifices made by our brave soldiers.
Let’s remember those who gave their lives for our freedom, and let’s never forget the families left behind. Let us honor their memory by living our lives with gratitude and appreciation for the sacrifices made on our behalf.
Thank you to all the brave men and women who have served and continue to serve our country. Your bravery and selflessness will never be forgotten. Happy Memorial Day! Lest we forget.
Micah Klug is a wife, homeschooling mother to five children, and author. She teaches time-tested solutions to help parents remember what matters most in life, including strengthening their home, faith, and family relationships. To learn how a child who grew up in an authoritarian home is now creating an environment of peace and joy in her own home visit this page. If you want to contact Micah, send her an email here or email [email protected].
