I was walkin' in Savannah passed a church, decayed and dim,
and there slowly through the window came a mighty funeral hymn;
A sympathy awakened and a sorrow quickly grew,
Till I found myself abiding in a little ol’ Negro pew.
Up front a colored couple sat in sorrow, and nearly wild,
And on the altar was a coffin, and in the coffin was a child;
Rose as sad a little old Negro preacher at a little wooden desk
With a manner grandly awkward and a countenance grotesque.
And he said, “Now don't be a weepin' for this pretty little clay,
For the little boy who lived here - he's done gone run away.
Oh, he’s doin' very finely and he appreciates your love,
But he's sure the Father wants him in the lodge house up above.
Now, He didn't give you this baby, not by a hundred thousand miles,
He just thought you needed some sunshine and he lent him for awhile.
Oh, he let you love and keep it till your hearts was bigger grown,
And these silver tears you're shedding are just interest on the loan.
So my poor dejected mourners let your hearts with Jesus rest,
And don't go a criticizing the one that knows the best;
He gives us many comforts, and he has the right to take away,
To the Lord be praise and glory, now and forever, let us pray