Bessie's Bell
I wasn't going to church that morning,
but I heard Bessie at the bell.
This is the day that the Lord has made,
I heard this message so well.
You could always tell it was Bessie,
in the manner that is was rung,
it said, come to church, come to church,
almost as if it were sung.
Just an old white country church,
where very few attend,
usually, a traveling preacher,
but, you could always hear an, Amen!
Bessie's gone to Heaven now,
but I bet that things go swell,
if only they will let her,
ring that old church bell.
Maybe through the country side,
down through Heavens floor,
we will hear, that come to church,
blessed again, just one time more. |
Dude's Opinion
Once there were two angels,
one said, "what do you see"?
the other turned, smiled, and said
"a man a lot like me.
There on that riverbank alone".
"Ah yes, I see him too,
but there he sits on Sunday,
you say a lot like you"?
"Yes, now look the other way,
to see the man in church,
he'll never know the heavenly peace
of a line on a five pound perch.
One will sit and listen,
and one will never hear,
the song of a bird in the willow
or the sermon that's so near.
God doesn't only live,
in the beauty of stained glass,
He's closer to that fisherman
sitting in the cold damp grass.
Because he's the one that loves Him,
and listens to His word,
not only from the pulpit
is the Creators message hear.
You see, God knows us all,
each in our separate way,
He'd rather have one fisherman
Than a hypocrite each day".
|
| The Cowboy Up The Road He was just and old time cowboy
who lived up the road a ways.
He sat and whittled toys for kids
that's how he spent his days.
All the kids went up there,
they loved the stories that he told,
about, how the west was won and lost,
and about that shinny gold.
Well, he was called to service,
to the place where angels go,
I hoped he knew we loved him,
but, I never told him so.
I baked him apple pie,
at least three times a week;
he never actually said thank you,
just smiled, and tweaked my cheek.
He didn't have any kin folk left,
so it was up to me,
to put his things in order,
as best that they could be.
I know there is always sadness
when a soul moves on it's way,
but as I walked into that house
I hadn't cried until today.
Over in the corner, his hat,
hung lifeless on the chair,
tossed there before he left,
the message, I don't care.
Then the way I found his boots,
all polished, by his bed,
with his bible, open wide,
to know what the Lord had said.
I know he's up in heaven now,
little angels by his side,
telling different stories,
as always with great pride.
He was quite a cowboy,
and really quite a man,
to be in charge of cherubs
was always in God's plan. |
He Was Seventeen He
was seven teen..........
and learnin' to Rode Ride.
Things had been tough,
since his Dad had died.
His Mom, had to work,
she called him a fool,
because he had decided
not to finish school.
He had a problem
that he wouldn't let go,
though it would have helped
if asked, just shook his head no.
He worked with his horse
and because he was green,
expected perfection;
and it made him mean.
There was blood on the horse,
one night, when the moon rose high.
he sat down,alone,
and started to cry.
"Son, you're not gettin'
the gist of the game.
You'll not break that horse,
if you just give him pain.
Get up off your butt
and go treat him right,
lay down beside him,
stay with him all night.
Talk softly and often,
like he was your best friend.
He'll love you forever
and will to the end.
I'm sorry I left you,
before I could say,
how much you meant.....
I should have told you each day.
But, son, this is it,
I've given you my best shot,
I'm not much on words
these are all that I've got.
So go to that horse
and always be true,
he'll learn a lot quicker,
and he'll understand you."
The tears still streaming
he looked to the sky...
"thanks Dad, he whispered,
for saying good bye."
He was different, now,
no longer wild,
he'd grown to a man
and forgotten the child.
He worked with his horse,
everyday, after school,
treats his Mom with respect,
she whispers, Dan, our son is a jewel. |
