Today as I remember an older man,
A bit stooped, old and gray.
His feeble steps, once sure and strong,
Plod through each weary day.
He sits alone just waiting,
His eyes, once clear and bright,
Looking for he knows not what,
But now in a dimmer light.
Wish that I could do a bit,
To brighten up his day,
And bring a bit of hope to him,
Spread some cheer along his way.
For by my fruits I shall be known,
And should my dear Lord allow.
I'll grow older, and I will plod,
That road he travels now.
(Close this window)