Holding to the hand of Mama,

crying, “Lord, don’t let her go.

We just got to have her.

Oh, Lord, we need her so.”

With a voice so weak,

she could hardly speak,

we heard her say,

“Let me go.

Let me go children.

I don’t want to stay.”

She just caught a glimpse

of Heaven and her new home,

where cripples never enter

and blind men never roam.

Well she heard the angels singing;

saw them in their long white robes.

Little children’s voices blended there

in a land where we won’t grow old.

She’ll be standing by the river

when we’ve walked our last mile.

With arms outstretched

I can see her there.

That same old familiar smile,

saying, “Come on over children.

We won’t suffer anymore.

There’s nothing but peace and contentment

over on these golden shores.”

Our family needs a glimpse of Heaven

and our new home,

where cripples never enter

and blind men never roam.

Let us see our angel singing;

see her in her long white robe.

Hear her children’s voices blending there

in that land where we won’t grow old.