His deeds were never published for the public,
He only filed a short form for his taxes,
And through the rain I heard the choir singing,
His table was never full of plenty,
The preacher said he'd always been a good man,
And through the rain I heard the choir singing,
"...Nearer my God to thee…"
I've buried two fathers. I was lucky to have both. This one reminds me of the second, Joaquin Torres, who was as much a father to me as my bio-dad was. The day of his funeral was not a misty day. But children cried. Adults cried. And I cried.
Things he did were never done for show.
His name was never printed in the paper,
Until about two days ago.
No one asked him how he felt about the war.
He always had a good word for his neighbors,
Now his good word won't be heard anymore.
"Nearer my God to thee…"
Through the mist I saw some children crying,
And I felt nearer, my God, to thee.
His silverware was never the real thing.
But the tears on the faces of his family,
Were just as real as if he'd been a king.
But preachers always throw that phrase around.
But the tears I tasted gave his words new meaning,
Watching old friends put Daddy in the ground.
"Nearer my God to thee…"
Through the mist I saw some children crying,
And I felt nearer, my God, to thee....