The Tramp

His clothes were all tattered and torn,
With patches and buttons pulled off,
It seemed that too long they were worn,
And strangers treated him with scoff.

His shoes had holes in the bottoms.
The laces were all falling apart.
When he smiled his teeth were all rotten.
He was pushing a beat up old cart.

I wondered where this man came from.
And what was it that brought him down.
Searching through trash for a crumb.
On his face was pasted a frown.

I gave him a dollar or two,
For a warm meal to nourish him.
Maybe his faith would renew,
His future in this world seemed slim.

I told him of mansions up high.
That welcomed one and all
Then told him that God would supply,
If only he'd answer the call.

I prayed with him, stayed for a while.
So he'd know that a friend he had found.
I showed him that life was worthwhile.
I told him Gods love would abound.

At night when I lay down my head,
I prayed that our God comfort him.
I've only supplied him with bread.
While God filled his soul to the brim.

Floria
© 2001