Post by pannt51 on Oct 23, 2011 18:46:24 GMT -5
“THE OLD BIBLE”
On an old table scarred and worn I found an old bible,tattered and worn. Yellow with age, brittle had become
It’s every page.
As my fingers softly, the book I did caress, I knew a
moment of distress. Thinking of the lives that book had touched
over the years, I felt the start of my own tears.
What mother, I wondered, had sat reading this book
night after night, as she had sat waiting for her child to come
into sight? What trials and troubles had she known, which had
made her weary to the bone?
How many times, as she had sat and read, had tears dimmed
her eyes, while over a loved one she had cried? How many nights
alone at that midnight hour had she turned to the Lord in prayer?
Seeking Him on behalf of a loved one gone astray, asking Him to
turn them His way?
If that old bible, tattered and worn could talk, what pathway
would it say that she had walked?
With my eyes dim with tears, I thought back through the years
to that little country house on a country farm, and my own mother,
who had prayed that I would come to no harm.
So there, before that table scarred and worn, I went to
the Lord in prayer, thanking Him for a mother’s love that could
have only came from Him above. Thanking Him for all the
times when for me my mother had prayed, seeking that I
wouldn’t stray.
Now, to the Lord my heart belongs and my days are filled
with a new song. All because of an old bible, tattered and worn
that I found one beautiful morn.
On an old table scarred and worn I found an old bible,tattered and worn. Yellow with age, brittle had become
It’s every page.
As my fingers softly, the book I did caress, I knew a
moment of distress. Thinking of the lives that book had touched
over the years, I felt the start of my own tears.
What mother, I wondered, had sat reading this book
night after night, as she had sat waiting for her child to come
into sight? What trials and troubles had she known, which had
made her weary to the bone?
How many times, as she had sat and read, had tears dimmed
her eyes, while over a loved one she had cried? How many nights
alone at that midnight hour had she turned to the Lord in prayer?
Seeking Him on behalf of a loved one gone astray, asking Him to
turn them His way?
If that old bible, tattered and worn could talk, what pathway
would it say that she had walked?
With my eyes dim with tears, I thought back through the years
to that little country house on a country farm, and my own mother,
who had prayed that I would come to no harm.
So there, before that table scarred and worn, I went to
the Lord in prayer, thanking Him for a mother’s love that could
have only came from Him above. Thanking Him for all the
times when for me my mother had prayed, seeking that I
wouldn’t stray.
Now, to the Lord my heart belongs and my days are filled
with a new song. All because of an old bible, tattered and worn
that I found one beautiful morn.