I didn’t mean to imply that Christianity had no role in her poetry, it clearly is one of the greatest influences in her work, but more meant to say what you did at the end- her view of it was atypical for not only her times, but ours. The phrase, “meek members of the Resurrection” is almost tongue in cheek mocking the idea that the Dead have any further existence at all.

“Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” is a poem written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye. Although the origin of the poem was disputed until later in her life, Mary Frye’s authorship was confirmed in 1998 after research by Abigail Van Buren, a newspaper columnist.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

And some variations of the poem via the link:

4 Derivative works
4.1 To All My Loved Ones (“Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep”)
4.2 The Better Angels of Our Nature (song by Monks of Doom)
4.3 Requiem (composition by Eleanor Joanne Daley)
4.4 “The Ballad of Mairéad Farrell” (song by Seanchai and the Unity Squad)
4.5 “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” (composition by Paul K. Joyce)
4.6 “Prayer” (song by Lizzie West)
4.7 “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” (choral composition by Joseph Twist)
4.8 “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” (choral song by Libera)
4.9 “A Thousand Winds” (song by Man Arai)
4.10 “The Soft Stars that Shine at Night” (choral composition by David Bedford)
4.11 Eternal Light: A Requiem (composition by Howard Goodall)
4.12 “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” (song by Harry Manx and Kevin Breit)
4.13 “You Will Make It” (song by Jem)
4.14 “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” (Music by Rudi Tas)
4.15 “Do Not Stand At My Grave” (song by Caitlin Canty)
4.16 “Alicia’s Poem” (“Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep”)

Indolence is heaven’s ally here,
And energy the child of hell:
The Good Man pouring from his pitcher clear
But brims the poisoned well.

– Melville –

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Same here.

How is it that a poem I hadn’t heard of before this post is “The most popular poem…in the English-speaking world–and perhaps the world as a whole”?

In the case of Alabaster chambers it comes to hand with the “meek members of the Resurrection” as in those who shall inherit the Earth. [From within their satin lined coffins inside their burial vault of alabaster and stone roofs. ]

It’s complicated a bit because, mistress of the unfinished or abandoned poem that she is, there are ostensibly two versions of this poem (1859 -1861) with different ending stanzas.

The earliest one is

“Light laughs the breeze
In her Castle above them–
Babbles the Bee in a stolid Ear,
Pipe the Sweet Birds ingorant cadence–
Ah, what sagacity perished here!”

but that is most often omitted since it is clearly of second intensity to:

Grand go the Years–in the Crescent–above them–
Worlds scoop their Arcs–
And Firmaments–row–
Diadems–drop–and Doges–surrender–
Soundless as dots–on a Disc of Snow–

At the same time she was not, to say the least, a standard issue Christian of her era:

“Some keep the Sabbath going to Church — / I keep it, staying at Home”.

…in the English-speaking world” The Wik source seems to say only that “In some respects it became the nation’s favourite poem by proxy…”

Did I miss something that lifted it out of the UK and sounded its barbaric yawp across the world?

Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way that you always used.
Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.

All is well.

Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918)
Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral

Often times read in French at funerals in France, mistakingly attributed to Charles Péguy.