IZMIR, Turkey — City workers shoveled dirt over the two coffins, one at a time, as an imam, in plaintive and meditative tones, sang prayers in Arabic.

“Our Lord, forgive us our sins and remit us from our evil deeds,’’ he said.

The solemnity of the occasion was made more so for what was absent — tears, loved ones, or even the names of the dead, who are each identified only by a number.

Etched on one slab of wood: 42453.

Etched on the other: 42454.

For hundreds of thousands of refugees who fled wars in the Middle East for safety in Europe, this coastal city has been a place of departure. But for hundreds of others, it has become a final resting place.

“We are now faced with entire families drowning at sea, with no one left to claim them,’’ said Ahmet Altan, the imam at Dogancay Cemetery, which has put aside land to bury the unknown migrants who lose their lives at sea.

As NATO dispatches warships to the Aegean Sea in a new effort to contain the flow of refugees coming through Turkey and on to Europe, the deaths keep piling up — at least 400 so far this year, according to the International Organization for Migration. Already in 2016, more than 76,000 people — nearly 3,000 a day — have arrived in Greece from Turkey.

Increased patrols by the Turkish coast guard, plummeting temperatures, and stormy seas — all factors that officials believed would lead to fewer crossings — have seemed to have little effect on the numbers.

If anything, there has been a surge in departures in recent weeks, as desperate refugees have taken advantage of the lower prices that smugglers typically charge during winter, when the journey is riskier than it is in summer. Those numbers could rise further, with a new wave of what Turkish officials say is now at least 100,000 refugees fleeing heavy Russian bombing raids and a Syrian government offensive near Aleppo.

“We have no choice but to leave now,’’ said Mahdi, 36, a Syrian refugee and former teacher who prepared to make the journey with his wife and two children, ages 11 months and 3. “It’s already hard to get to Europe, and it’s going to get harder because these countries prefer that we drown than live on their lands.’’

On a recent day here, Bilal, 35, a Syrian refugee who gave only his first name, set out for Greece on a rickety wooden boat with his wife and three children, ages 10, 8, and 6. When they set off, the boat, which he said had a capacity of 30 people, was packed with 36 adults and 15 children.

“The motor couldn’t handle the weight, and halfway into the journey it stopped working,’’ Bilal recalled. “The next thing we knew, the boat had capsized and we were all in the freezing cold water.’’

His wife grabbed on to two of their children and attached their life jackets to his. He took the other child, but neither of them could swim and the strong current caused them to drift away from one another, he said.

“We were in the water for over two hours before the coast guard came, and one by one, the people around us died.’’

Bilal’s son, Ibrahim, 6, started vomiting blood and his daughter lost consciousness, but the family survived. His cousin’s three children were among 18 passengers who died.

“Death has become our destiny,’’ said Kholoud, Bilal’s wife. “Either you die in Syria from shelling or you die at sea.’’

At least they survived. The full extent of the humanitarian crisis can be seen at Izmir’s largest morgue, which recently exceeded capacity and is expanding its facility to make more room.

“The hardest part of this job is receiving the children,’’ an official at the morgue said. “They are at the age when they should be splashing about in the sea and playing, but instead their lifeless bodies are being washed up ashore one by one.’’

He explained that once the bodies of drowned migrants arrive at the morgue, they are kept for 15 days to allow families time to claim them. If they are not identified within that period, the forensics department carries out an autopsy and records the DNA.

Each body is bathed and shrouded, in line with Islamic rites, before being sent to the cemetery where the imams carry out a full Islamic funeral.

“We decided to give the migrants their own cemetery to make the identification process as easy as possible, even after the bodies are buried,’’ Altan, the imam, said.

The four imams who work at the cemetery carry out an average of five funerals each a day, for Turkish citizens and migrants. They say they are haunted by the number of unidentified migrant burials they have carried out in the past year.

“I broke down when I buried a 3-month-old baby,’’ Altan said. “I couldn’t help myself. It’s hard to accept, because these deaths can be prevented by politicians, but they won’t stop and it’s getting worse.’’