Our Father
Our Father, so stern, so true,
eyes like mischief's twins in blue.
Hands soft yet strong,
chastened me when right went wrong.
Head filled with cotton white,
each strand I placed with sin's delight.
He led by steps from God's own word,
this path he walked was often heard.
When his prayers reached Heaven's throne,
the king would stop the Angel's song.
When he spoke the Lord's words not his,
mountains moved, they had no choice with words like this.
When voice stepped behind the silent cloud,
those boys in blue spoke volumes loud.
And when his years were full all eighty one,
his Father said, "Well done my good and faithful son."
9/23/18
Copyright © Wren Rushing | Year Posted 2018
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