WHO
Who is that rattling the old front door?
Who is shuffling along the dusty hall floor?
Who waits at the empty table in vain?
Who moans in loneliness and pain.
Please tell me, who?

Maybe a stranger you did not invite in,
Maybe a soul you could have saved from sin,
Some hungry beggar you could have fed,
These are the Who’s you see in your head.
Now you know who.

She awoke with a start, remembering all,
She did not want ghosts haunting her hall
But could she let strangers into her home,
Or the homeless who hungry roam?
If not those who.

She looked at her home perfection did see,
If folks come in how long would it be
Before their were stains on the carpets and floor.
If she let undesirables in through her door.
So please tell me who?

Who lives in that mansion so grand?
Who sits so lovely by the Master’s hand?
Who wears the crown of such bright gold?
Who has that inner beauty so sweet to behold?
Please tell me, who?

Those who tried to help those in more need,
Those who the call of the hungry did heed,
Those who sold their riches to teach my word,
Not the greedy whose my voice never heard.
Yes, the glorified who’s.

Too late for her, she died without one who
Entering into her front door to view
The beauty and grace that filled the home,
But were left out in the cold to roam,
I’ll tell you who,

Those that could have been sheltered and fed,
Had a place to lay a tired, worn out head.
For the house never sold when she passed away
And the uninvited strangers come hungry every day.
Now we know who.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson December 23, 2003
2003/3458/who/life/way of life