A stillness fell on the river's face one summer's eve.
A dark cloud covered up the sun,
There didn't seem to be a breeze.
No more will he board his boat or step upon the muddy ground.
The snakes, the frogs, the animals along the creek and river bank
No more will hear his motor's sound.
Tha waves from his wake ne'er again will wash upon the shore.
His face again we will not see,
His voice we will hear no more.
His call for river traffic, up or down, never more will be.
For the last voice he heard on his radio was God,
"You will come and be with me."