I was walking in Savannah past a church, decayed and dim
When slowly through the window came a plaintive funeral hymn
And my sympathy awakened and a wonder quickly grew
`Til I found myself envied in a little colored pew.

Out front a colored couple sat in sorrow, nearly wild
On the altar was a casket and in the casket was a child
I could picture him while livin`, curly hair, protruding lips
I`d seen perhaps a thousand in my hurried southern trips.

Rose a sad, old colored preacher from his little wooden desk
With a manner sorta awkward, and countenance grotesque
The simplicity and shrewdness in his Ethiopian face
Showed the wisdom and ignorance of a crushed, undying race.

And he said, "Now don`t be weepin` for this pretty bit of clay
For the little boy who lived there has done gone and run away
He was doin` very finely and he appreciates your love
But his shore `nuff Father wanted him in the big house up above.

The Lord didn`t give you that baby, by no hundred thousand miles
He just thought you need some sunshine, and He lent it for awhile
And He let you keep and love it `til your hearts were bigger grown
And these silver tears you`re sheddin` now is just interest on the loan.

Just think, my poor dear mourners, creepin` `long on sorrows life`s way
What a blessed picnic this here baby got today
Your good fathers and good mothers crowd the little fellow `round
In the Angel`s tender garden of the big plantation ground.

And his eyes they brightly sparkle at the pretty things he viewed
But a tear came, and he whispered, `I want my parents , too`
But then the Angel`s chief musicians teach that little boy a song
Says if only they be faithful they`ll soon be comin` `long.

So, my poor detached mourners, let your hearts with Jesus rest
And don`t go to criticizin` the One what knows the best
He has give us many comforts, He`s got the right to take away
To the Lord be praised in glory, forever, let us pray."

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): JOHN T. WILLIAMS