Steal away, steal away,
steal away to Jesus.
Steal away, steal away home
I've got long to stay here
I was walking in Savannah,
past a church decayed and dim,
And there slowly through the window
came a plaintiff's funeral hymn,
And a sympathy awakened
and a wonder quickly grew,
Till I found myself in Bard
and a little Negro pew,
Out in front a young couple
set in sorrow, nearly wild,
On the altar was a coffin,
in the coffin was a child.
Rose a sad old negro preacher
in a little wooden desk,
With a manner grandly awkward,
with a countenance grotesque.
And he said,
Now, don't be weeping for this petty bit of clay,
for the little boy who lived here
to go and run away.
He's doing very finely,
and he appreciates your love,
but his sure enough father want him
in the large house up above.
Now he didn't give you that baby
by a hundred thousand miles.
He just thinks you need some sunshine,
and he lent it for a while.
And he lets you love and keep it,
till your hearts was bigger
grown.
And these silver tears you're shedding,
is just interest on the loan.
So my poor dejected mourners,
let your hearts with Jesus rest.
And don't go criticizing
the one that knows the best.
He's give us many comforts.
He has a right to take away.
To the Lord be praised in glory,
now and ever.
Let us pray.
My Lord calls me.
He calls me by the thunder.
The trumpet sounds within my
Oh, I ain't got long to stay here