Waiting at the door, a funeral poem for someone who died in old age, by Tullius Clinton O'Kane.

I am waiting for the master,
Who will bid me rise and come,
To the glory of his presence,
To the gladness of his home.

Many a weary path I've travelled,
In the darkest storm and strife,
Bearing many a heavy burden,
Often struggling for my life.

Many friends that travelled with me,
Reached that portal long ago;
One by one they left me battling,
With the dark and crafty foe.

Yes, their pilgrimage was shorter,
And their triumphs sooner won;
Oh, how lovingly they'll greet me,
When the toils of life are done.

Yet, O Lord, I wait thy pleasure,
For thy times and ways are best;
Hear me, Lord, for I am weary;
O my Father, bid me rest.

They are watching at the portal,
They are waiting at the door;
Waiting only for my coming,
All the loved ones gone before.

Waiting at the door, a funeral poem for someone who died in old age, by Tullius Clinton O'Kane.