As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a
grave-side service for a homeless man with no family or friends.

The funeral was to be held at a cemetery way back in the country.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost; and, being a
typical man, I did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour
late.

I saw the back hoe and the crew, who were eating lunch, but the hearse had
apparently already left. I apologized to the workers for my tardiness,
and stepped to the side of the open grave, where I saw the vault lid
already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long.

The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch, and I began to pour
out my heart and soul to the Lord. As I preached the workers began to say
'Amen,' 'Praise the Lord, ' and 'Glory'! I preached, and I preached, like
I'd never preached before: from Genesis all the way to Revelations.

I closed the lengthy service with a prayer and walked to my car. As I was
opening the car door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of the
workers saying to another, 'I ain't never seen anything like that before
and I've been puttin' in septic tanks for twenty years.'