
Sitting in front of the
fireplace, Foot across the other
knee, Bible in his rough calloused
hands, Teaching my siblings and me.
 Many times this scene played
out, Daily the Bible was read, Explaining
the scriptures to us, Praying before going to
bed.
 I remember his telling of, Jonah
swallowed by the big whale, The disciples
calling Jesus, When their faith in the storm
would fail.
 Joseph sold by his
brothers, Jealous of a many colored
coat, They gave the robe to Jacob, Covered
in the blood of a slain goat.
 Many times he read these
stories, And to this day I can recall, The
tears that fell when he read, How Jesus died
to save us all.
 Your sins come back to haunt
you, As sure as the sun rises in the
sky, Papa heavily stressed the need, Upon
Jesus we should always rely.
 Papa was old and worn, Many years
working the soil, Never giving up his
faith, He often prayed as he toiled.
 Loudly singing songs of praise
as, He picked cotton or pulled ears of
corn, A sermon often came about of, The
Saviour's blessings when we're
reborn.
 He would not let a chance go
by, To teach us right from wrong, Days
spent working on the farm, Kept body and
faith strong.
 Children grown and moved
away, Papa has finished his Earthly
stay, But the love he had for Jesus, Still
resides in each of us today.
 Papa has gone on to Heaven, His
days of hard work are o'er, I know he looks
down upon us, As he waits on Heaven's
shore.
 His Bible is safely stowed
away, With memories of his deep love, And
we carry that same devotion, We'll one day
join him up above.
 Gayle Davis© 28 January 2009 E-mail Website

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