I’ve stood by the bedside of those who are weak
Whose days are near finished, whose outlook is bleak
I’ve heard the last words of men casting blame
Upon our blest Saviour or some other name
Some utter curses as they draw their last breath
Some sing God praises as they pass on in death
Some die in sorrow and some die in shame
Some die in poverty, in glory or pain.
We come to the parlor and pay last respects
And here the stranger no problem detects
Yes – he was a good man, so loving and kind
His problems or faults are kept far from the mind.
I’ve been by the grave side, I’ve seen many tears
As grieving is mixed with love, hope and fears.
What does it matter when all’s said and done
When it’s all over, when our race is all run.
What makes the difference as we here shed our tears.
Is this death full of hope or this death full of fears?
What stuff was he made of when the pressure was on?
What did he do when put in the wrong?
Was he gentle, kind, loving, patient and true.
Did he live to serve others, what did he do?
As we gather in sadness just how do we cope?
With the death full of fears or the death full of hope.
God has an answer and God has a plan
Did he trust all to God?
Then he was a great man.