Just like in a cafe, we talk about everything. Nothing heavy. Just talk over a cup of coffee.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


On a dark winter's night as the chill wind blew
on a park bench an old man there lay

Tattered and torn, tired withered and worn
he'd not eaten for more than a day

Heartache and fears and much sadness and tears
was his life - fate had dealt a poor hand

He thought once or twice of the terrible price
he'd paid not obeying God's command

Way back in his youth he was taught gospel truth
and the Spirit had led him to preach

But judging was he - the way things ought to be
so instead he decided to teach

He made a good start and he had a kind heart -
untold were his many good deeds

Yet often he found - one who'd pray and kneel down
but he couldn't attend their soul's needs

A college professor he'd been for a while
but soon the years took a sad toll

Divorce - loss of wealth - no job and poor health
had left just a bum - growing old

He lay there in pain - a slight drizzle of rain
most certain he'd freeze to the bone

As he thought of the past- a deep sigh came at last
he guessed he'd just die there alone

Then, strangely appeared, a man standing quite near
He asked, "may I sit for awhile?"

And though it was dark - in his eye was a spark
and his face bore a kind loving smile

He said, "Sir I perceive that you didn't receive
all the good things God planned for your life;

By the look on your face I can somehow retrace
that you've lived through much anguish and strife."

"God's judgement won't count all the sins you repent
and it's never too late to restart -

So kneel here with me and together let's see
if God will re-enter your heart;

Together they prayed and a long time he stayed -
A soul was reborn on that night

Then as suddenly he came - he was gone with no name
He'd vanished completely from sight

A brown bag he'd brought of food the old man sought
was all that remained at his side

The food warmed his body - the words fed his soul
Now Christ. . . . within him . . . . did abide

The brown paper sack on the park bench there
had these words - written with love-

"God sent His Son . . . . . . .and He also sent me"
"And a little . . . . . .manna from above.

by Ron Baron
1205 Main 
Brownwood, Texas 76801
[email protected]
Used with Permission

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