JUST
PASSING THROUGH:
There's
an old black book on the table
over
by my grandpa's rocking chair
the
gold is worn off the pages
he
always handled
that book with care
He
would sit and read that book for hours
he
often bowed his head in prayer
tears
would trickle down his weathered old face
you
knew he met Jesus there
His
words still ring in my memory
their
as plain as the harvest moon
He
said don't
weep for this old boy
I'm
just a stranger who's a passing through
you
cant plow the fields for ever
no
matter how many mules you use
and
you may not know when your journey will end
but
you can know your just passing through
His
hands were rough and calloused
yet
his heart was as soft as gold
he
often told, how many years ago
he
had come to know Sharon's Rose
Now
Grandpa has gone on to Glory
that
old black books still by his
rocking chair
it
lays just the way he left it
the
night he climbed those golden stairs
copyright
1995, Richard D. Preston
