My Times Are In Thy Hands

My times are in Thy hand;
My God, I wish them there;
My life, my friends, my soul I leave
Entirely to Thy care.

My times are in Thy hand;
Whatever they may be;
Pleasing or painful, dark or bright,
As best may seem to Thee.

My times are in Thy hand;
Why should I doubt or fear?
My Father's hand will never cause
His child a needless tear.

My times are in Thy hand,
Jesus, the crucified!
Those hands my cruel sins had pierced
Are now my guard and guide.

My times are in Thy hand,
I'll always trust in Thee;
And, after death, at Thy right hand
I shall forever be.
by
William F. Lloyd

This song was on my grandmother's lips as she was dying. The bleeding couldn't be stopped from the birth of her last child, Caldwell. He died not to soon after her. My father watched this as a little boy. Each child was brought in one at a time so she could tell them good bye and give words of comfort and encouragement. Dad was the last one to come in to see her. He was the most special one to her out of seven children, Hassle, Bertie, Lucille, Dad(James), Bob, Ruth, Georgie Ann, and Wanda. He was always worried about her and doing special things for her. He loved to hear her sing old hymns. She had a beautiful voice to match her long, flowing, lovely hair. She kept it put up but when she let it down it would roll to the floor, touching the ground. She would brush her hair late at night in front of her dresser mirror singing. Her voice gave him comfort. She protected him from an abusive, alcoholic father. Teaching him right from wrong versus the hell raising moonshiner ways of his dad.

This song I sung to my father a couple days before he passed away. I got him pink roses like his mother liked. I told him I felt like her spirit was there watching over him. He said he knew she was. He felt her presence there with him. I told him that she was there to be with her little boy in his time of need. I also felt her presence, too. She was there until the end. I just know it in my heart.

I felt the need as we consummated my dad to the ground to sing this song.The rain started to pour down. With my heart breaking and tears streaming down my eyes, I sang. It was hard to tell how much of the water on my face was tears and how much was raindrops. My wife said that she had always heard that if it rained during a funeral that the soul is ascending to heaven. If that is so may this song ascend with him until I see his face again.

This song I hope can be sung at my passing by me or by someone I love. As it is being sung may my grandmother and my father be there at my side as I make the journey one day. Soul searching is bringing out parts of you that are deeply rooted in who you are. Who I am is made up of the legacy I have been handed and must learn how to pass on.
by
Lance Gargus

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