JUST PASSING THROUGH:
There's an old black book on the table
over by my grandpa's rocking chair
the gold is worn off the pages
he always handled that book with care
He would sit and read that book for hours
he
often bowed his head in prayer
tears would trickle down his weathered old face
you knew he met Jesus there
His
words still ring in my memory
their as plain as the harvest moon
He said don't weep for this old boy
I'm just a stranger who's a passing through
you cant plow the fields for ever
no matter how many mules you use
and you may not know when your journey will end
but you can know your just passing through
------------
His hands were rough and calloused
yet his heart was as soft as gold
he often told, how many years ago
he had come to know Sharon's Rose
Now Grandpa has gone on to Glory
that old black
books still by his rocking chair
it lays just the way he left it
the night he climbed those golden stairs
copyright 1995,
Richard D. Preston
