Sound Familar?
Friday, September 15th, 2006This poem reminded me of some boys I know.
His trousers are torn, rolled up to the knee;
A hole in his shirt which he caught on a tree;
But I see a soul for whom Jesus has died,
Clothed in His righteousness, pressed to His side.I see not labor and hours of prayer
Spent for that freckled-faced naughty boy there,
But I see a Savior with arms open wide,
Waiting in Heaven to take him inside.I see not freckles, but man fully grown,
A heart filled with God’s Word I’ve carefully sown,
A life speaking forth for the Savior each day,
O Lord, for this boy I most earnestly pray.I see not his mischief, but energy bent,
Put to the task where the Lord wants it spent;
O God, make this lively, mischievous boy
A power for Thee, to Thy heart great joy.





