brown and white, I go and touch and talk to and breathe myself into. And the religion. There's my Church in a solid body, right up near and the Head of it at this moment speaking. “With the death of Dr Winiata,” he is saying into the microphone, “one of God's good men, a prince has fallen; the loss is indescribable, Dr Winiata has made a great contribution to New Zealand and has seen his influence grow and his ideas begin to spread. A man of many qualities,” he continues, “he was fearless in acknowledging what he believed to be right and because of this his stature will grow with the years. He found his religion and his works a release for his great energies and abilities, both of which were given without stint. His gifts of humanity and sincerity have helped him break down many barriers. He had love in his heart and compassion in his soul. He died bravely and well and we say farewell with gratitude for the long days we were privileged to spend with him. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Oh these words and this singing, this weeping and these flowers, the hair blowing in the wind, this honour: cease it all. I am well and my work will be well. We bring nothing into this life and we take nothing away; not even our breath do we take away and I leave mine in the ones I have chosen. All you speakers tracing the history of the Maori people back to the canoes, you representatives of tribes springing from all these canoes, paying your respects to me, you representatives of municipal government and you Cabinet Ministers, listen! I take nothing away. The pall-bearers, all of them the young people of my people, are moving across the marae and on goes the lid of that coffin over there. Poor tired body, you served me and the Lord well. Even I pay you my respects. Bear that unlikely serenity on your face to the tomb. ‘At the coming, with high and decorated prow, your last canoe. Take then thy paddle named Kautu-ki-te-rangi, and paddle to thy far home Hawaiki….’ ‘Upon thee, thy fine flaxen cloak….’ But the honour of this cloak cannot be for me, for me so humble a human. Such honour is for an Idea; the Idea of Maori progress. From deep in the hushed crowds, unseen, I watch them lift high upon their young shoulders the casket bearing the cast-off body of Maharaia Winiata, but not the freed Idea, the everlasting Idea of the Maori moving forward; that remains here in my Chosen. I am almost coming, Lord. The casket circles the marae and as it returns and approaches the tomb my life flashes behind me. My babyhood without books, the love of my family, my schooling with the difficulties of language, the faith in me of others, the flash of the sense of purpose, the Universities, the Theological College, the pastorate on the West Coast, the Teachers' Training College, the years of study in Edinburgh and the pain of exile there, periods of nine hours at a stretch of study behind a locked door, the arduous Philosophy Doctorate, my wife, my children and our hopes and plans for them, the visit to China, my Church, many and many the maraes, many converses into the night, arguments, voices raised in debate and exhortation into the dawns; all those cities, those far-flung Maori villages, and that travelling, roads, roads and roads. I'm coming Lord, I'm coming. Here they are lowering the casket into the tomb padded in velvet, think of it. My family at the head and the Minister reading the glorious words of the burial service; dust to dust, ashes to ashes, Maha, for your defeated cold body; but not for my spirit, the dust. I'm coming. The singing around and above me, the thousands filing past, I'll remember all this. Into eternity I'll remember. I'll remember the hand of my son that woke me stroking the casket and fingering the strands of the korowai cloak, and the fluttering of flowers in the wind, and the corners of the mats lifting, and the dust blowing and the hair, and the garlanded kuias lamenting. Into eternity I will. Good-bye my Maori people, and my white friends good-bye. I am well and my work will be well. I have left my breath within you and I take nothing away. Now I'm coming Lord. I'm here.