I was walking in Savannah
past a church decayed and dim
When slowly through the window
came a plaintive funeral hymn
an d a wonder quickly grew
Till I found myself envied
in a little country church pew
sat in sorrow nearly wild
On the altar was a casket
and in the casket was a child
I could picture him while living,
curly hair and smiling lips
Oh, I'd seen perhaps a thousand
in my hurried business trips
Then rose a sad old country preacher
from his little wooden desk
with a manner sort of awkward
and countenance grotesque.
And he said, now, don't be weeping
for this pretty bit of clay,
for the little boy who lived there
and he appreciated your love,
but our Heavenly Father wanted him
in the big house up above.
Now, the Lord didn't give you that baby,
not by no hundred thousand miles.
He just thought you needed sunshine,
and he lent him for a while.
And he let you keep him and love him
until your hearts were bigger grown.
And these silver tears that
are just interest on the loan.
Just think, my poor dear mourners
Creepin' along old life's sorrow way
All your good fathers and good mothers
Crowd the little fellow round
In the angel's tender garden
In the big plantation ground
And his eyes they brightly sparkle
At the pretty things he views
But a tear came and he whispered
But then the angel's chief musician,
he teaches that little boy
if only they be faithful,
they'll soon be coming along.
So my poor dejected mourners,
let your hearts with Jesus rest,
and don't go criticizing the
He hath given us many comforts,
and he's got the right to take away.
To the Lord be praised and glory,
Now forever, let us pray.
