The preacher stands behind a pulpit of some kind, And says the things that clearly come to mind, But the truth is very clear, whatever he may say, This one wrote his own funeral as he lived each day. She has left this earthly abode now far behind, She had been gentle, gracious and very kind; She wrote her funeral with acts of love, And her devotion to her God above.
What did you write for your funeral today? What did you think, or do, or feel, or say? Did your steps align with the Savior up above? Did your heart follow in His path of love? Every day we take our pen into our hand, And often write things that we’ve not planned, For life is so uncertain, full of surprise, Many chances for choice our life supplies. We cannot say what will come our way, As we walk down the pathway every day, But, no matter what, we can firmly decide We have chosen Jesus, we’re on His side.
The most eloquent preacher cannot display The beauty of a life that has walked His way. Like the simple eloquence that shows, In the life of one who the Savior knows.
When the time comes that we lay life’s pen aside, We’ve finished our course, we’ve finished our ride May the pages we write, as we finish our days, Make it be obvious we followed the Master’s ways. What did you write for your funeral today? What did you think, or do, or feel, or say? Did your steps align with the Savior up above? Did your heart follow in His path of love?
