Just moments ago, inside the walls of Family Worship Center in Baton Rouge, a sacred memory was brought into the light — one that few had ever heard, and none will forget.
As the memorial service for Reverend Jimmy Swaggart drew to a close, his grandson — standing alone beside the grand piano that had been Jimmy’s companion for over half a century — spoke words that left the congregation in tears:
“Before he passed, Grandpa gave me something,” he said quietly. “Not to publish. Not to play on air. Just to keep… until today.”
He paused, holding up a faded sheet of handwritten music.
“It was his final song. And he told me it wasn’t for the world. It was for the One waiting for him beyond the gates.”
The sanctuary fell completely silent.
According to his grandson, Jimmy Swaggart had written the melody in his final weeks, in the quiet hours when the cameras were off and the crowds had gone home. The lyrics were scribbled in the margins of an old Bible. The chords were soft, almost hesitant — but the message was clear:
“This isn’t a song of goodbye,” Jimmy had said, “It’s a song of arrival.”
And then, with trembling fingers and tear-filled eyes, the young Swaggart played it aloud for the first time.
No microphones. No backing band. Just a piano, a promise, and a grandson keeping his word.
The lyrics were simple. Pure. Almost like a lullaby:
“I see the lights on Jordan’s shore,
And I hear the voice I’ve waited for…
If this is the end, let it sound like grace,
I’m coming home to see Your face.”
By the final note, even the most stoic men in the room were weeping.
“He didn’t write it to be remembered,” his grandson whispered. “He wrote it to be received. By Jesus.”
And in that moment, it was no longer just a funeral.
It was a worship service. A homecoming.
The final hymn of a preacher who had given everything — and was now giving his very last melody to the One who had given him mercy.
Jimmy Swaggart’s voice may be silent. But today, his song was heard.
And not by the world.
But by Heaven.