Only a couple of years ago, after Freda died, we went to see Joe where he was living alone in his cottage on the Welshborder.

His lungs were bad from the illness contracted many years ago down in the coalmine, and he was hoarse and short of breath.

Nevertheless he told us that he went for a daily walk down the lane near his home. “I'm practicing," he said. “I sing hymns in the lane. Soon I'll be singing them in the presence of the Lord, so I'm practicing."

He used to joke that the story of his life was “From Coalpit to Pulpit."

Praise God he is now breathing easily, and singing what he rehearsed so long.

 Barbara Bazley