While we were gathered, watching around his bed,
He turned his eyes from us and looked away,
He saw something-what we couldn't see;
He saw Old Death.  He saw Old Death
Coming like a falling star.
But Death didn't frighten my Grand Father;
He looked to him like a welcome friend.
And he whispered to us: I'm going home,
And he smiled and closed his eyes.

And Death took him up like a baby,
And he lay in his icy arms,
But he didn't feel no chill.
And death began to ride again--
Up beyond the evening star,
Into the glittering light of glory,
On to the Great White Throne.
And there he laid Brother Bill
On the loving breast of Jesus.

And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away his tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from his face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked him in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.

Weep not--weep not,
He is not dead;
He's resting in the bosom of Jesus.

-Adapted from "Go Down Death", by James Weldon Johnson