Steal away, steal away,
steal away to Jesus
I ain't got long to stay.
I was walking in Savannah
near a church decayed dim.
Softly through the window
came a plaintive funeral hymn
and a sympathy awakened,
and a wonder quickly grew
till I found myself seated in
a rickety old pew.
Down in front, a young couple
sat an d mourned nearly a while.
On the altar was a coffin,
and in the coffin was a child.
Rose, a sad old country preacher
behind a little wooden desk,
with a man ner grandly awkward
and a countenance grotesque.
And he said, now don't be mourning
for this pretty bit of clay.
For the little boy that lives there,
he's done gone and run away.
Oh, he thanks you very kindly,
he appreciates your love.
But his sure enough father wants him
in the large house up above.
He didn't give you that baby
by a hundred thousand miles.
just thinks you need some sunshine.
So he lent him for a while.
And He lets you love and keep it
till your hearts were bigger grown.
And these silver tears you're shedding,
boy, they're just interest on the lawn.
So my poor dejected brethren,
let your hearts with Jesus rest,
and don't go criticizing
the one that knows the best.
He's given us many comforts.
He has a right to take away.
To the Lord be praise and glory,
now and ever.
Let us pray.
Steal away, steal away,
steal away home.
I ain't got long to stay