March 11, 2020
On wooden pews when just a lad
I heard the songs, some loud, some sad.
I’d lay my head on Mother’s lap,
Drift off to sleep and take a nap.
My aunt shared stories from God’s word,
She talked and drew, I saw and heard.
The stories told, the words, the songs
All seemed to say “Yes, he belongs.”
I heard the words but had to see,
God sent his Son, He died for me.
I had to say “You are my Lord.
I’ll walk with You in one accord.”
I came to know the Lord is real,
Not words or songs or how I feel.
He’s there in times I go astray.
He takes my hand, shows me the way.