This Dear Old Man
His quiet smile and strong warm hands gave strength and peace to life’s demands.
His love for God and for His Word carved out his life and shaped his world.
Though loss was his from home to son he ne’er gave up. And everyone
That crossed his path knew it was true – he loved the Lord and family, too.
He fixed our dolls and painted bikes. When I was five he bought a kite,
Then hid it up above the door, till I spied it – now hid no more.
He worked all day till tasks were done then worked at home past set of sun.
He planted trees and tilled the ground; his balding head and hands were brown.
No matter what the work at hand from preaching Christ or clearing land
To fixing cars both old and new, he gave his all, ‘twas all he knew.
Though sweat was often on his brow his kerchief band helped out somehow.
Then later when his knees were pained, he never grumbled or complained.
His ethic of a workingman was written in his calloused hands,
So scarred and worn from years of toil. Yet, ‘twas my heart that gave him soil,
For there he planted seeds of truth that he had taught me from my youth.
So then through life as he would stroll he left his prints upon my soul
Though born in means of low degree and knew how hard that life could be
He used the gifts that God had given, his heart and hands to help the livin’.
Now father’s gone but left behind: a heritage that now is mine.
I’ll always miss this dear old man’s loving heart and helping hands.