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As a young Priest in Whyalla, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a grave-side service for a homeless man, who had no family or friends.

The funeral was to be held at a new cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be buried there.

I was not familiar with the bush and I soon became lost.

Being a typical man, I did not stop to ask for directions.

I finally arrived an hour late.

I saw the backhoe and the open grave, but the hearse was nowhere in sight.

The digging crew was eating lunch.

I apologized to the workers for my tardiness, and I stepped to the side of the open grave.

There I saw the vault lid already in place.

I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long, as I told them that this was the proper thing to do.

The workers gathered around the grave and stood silent by, as I began to pour out my heart and soul.

As I preached about`looking forward to a brighter tomorrow' and `the glory that is to come,' the workers began to say `Amen,' `Praise the Lord,' and `Glory!' The fervor of these men truly inspired me.

So, I preached and I preached like I had never preached before, all the way from Genesis to Revelations.

I finally closed the lengthy service with a prayer, thanked the men, and walked to my car.

As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I heard one of the workers say to another, `I ain't NEVER seen nothin' like that before, and I've been puttin' in septic tanks for thirty years!'



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