Monument

But God was there in every fall, in every road I crossed,
And grace kept finding this old man.
Each time I thought I was lost.
So when my final evening comes, and I lay this body down,
Don't measure me by what I own.
Or the name I made in town.
Don't build me a monument.
Don't carve my name in stone.
Just tell my son I loved him, that I couldn't make it known.
Tell my daughter she was so alive in the darkest years I knew.
And tell my little grandson, he made an old heart new.