WHAT WILL I DO?:

© 1995 by Lydia Glider-Shelley
What will I do when I’m too old to sing? Too old to play anything… What will I do when I’m too old to go, But too young to know?
Will I wither away, like a rose on a windy day? Just falling apart… Where will I go when I’m too far gone to be What you have come to know as me?
Where will I go when I’m so old, deaf, and blind:
That I can hardly see?
Will you be there to pick me up, every time I stumble and fall?
Or will I sit alone, in a wheelchair…next to a barren wall?
Who will it be looking after me? And for that matter, you too?
When our time’s come and gone,
Who do you know that can be trusted to pull you through?
That’s why I choose to believe there is a God,
Who through his mercy and love,
Sent His son to see what life was like here:
So far from His throne above…
When do you think it’s important to know
What the next life to you will bring?
When do you think that it matters the most
To the rose in early spring?
As the dewdrop glistens, the cold winds blow:
And frozen in time will stand
The memory of one sweet moment, part of the master’s plan!
Why do you think I care at all? Why should it matter in the end?
Because you have always stood beside me,
Because you have been my friend!
So I want to know, in the by and by,
When this earthbound life’s passed on,
You’ll look me up in the hereafter:
And say you remember my song…
Maybe even come by and sing along!