With His Fiddle: In loving Memory of Lynn Cummings

The Lord called on Hi angels, on a cold winter day,

"His time has come; there is no reason for delay."

With the whisper of their wings, 'twas his journey's end;

While it was heaven's gain – we all lost a friend.

His pain is gone; he's been set free;

He grins and laughs now, like you and me.

And when he reached The Promise Land

He stood straight and tall, with his fiddle in his hand.

His life was a mission for thirty seven years/

He faced his share of trials, shed his share of tears.

While his demons lived within him, he'd never let it show,

He made friends and music, everywhere that he would go.

As the dance floors were sprinkled, and the lights turned to dim,

The hand of the Master was present in him ~

With chin tucked and eyes closed, the bow resting on the strings,

Come feel the finest music, it made the angels sing.

He's there on Jordan's Far Bank, drawing pictures in the sand

When he sees me coming, he'll reach out for my hand.

He left the world of friendship – with memories on their heart...

Memories that helped us – making it easier to part.

His pain is gone; he's been set free;

He grins and laughs now, like you and me.

And when he reached The Promise Land

He stood straight and tall, with his fiddle in his hand.

...he met mom and dad, with his fiddle in his hand:

...he'll be waiting for his friends, with his fiddle in his hand.