By Libby Powell
For many years, I’ve stood alone;
I’ve watched the world grow old and gray;
I’ve seen the lands around me fail;
I’ve viewed events both wild and fey.
But I’ve observed some joyful times,
Where life is full of lilies white,
Where waterfalls and rivers sing,
Which make for such a pretty sight.
Yet through the years there was one scene:
A home that welcomed all who came,
A life where peace and patience thrived,
A love that none on earth could maim.
I was there the day he came
Into this world, so full of joy;
A bright and glorious morning ’twas—
My heart sang for that little boy.
I watched him grow into a tot,
Then boyhood took a hold of him.
His hair was bronze, his eyes were gray,
His face was fair, his figure slim.
Perseverance marked his air;
Determination was his theme.
Though failing time and time again,
Persistence brought about a dream.
And though as cunning as a fox,
Good honesty his face displayed;
A lie had rarely crossed his lips;
A loyal friend he ne’er betrayed.
Into manhood he matured,
And married she whose love he sought.
From there a child was born to him,
A gift that tender joy had brought.
But happiness did not long last,
And sorrow struck a broken heart,
For there lay one without a breath,
His child, from him was torn apart.
His wife not long survived the loss;
That broken man was left behind.
No hope was left for him, and yet
He still pressed on with hope in mind.
What cause had he to hope, my friend?
His life was torn by pain and grief.
And yet, one thought, one man alone
Brought joyful peace and sweet relief.
Forever were his faithful eyes
Directed to his precious King,
Who, too, had borne such cruel pain,
The worst of any suffering.
His love sustained the weakened life
Of this dear man whose tired soul
Continued in life’s toilsome way,
Without repose, without control.
An old man now, his life was gone,
But still he trudged his weary path;
His face though marked with doubtless pain
Was gentle with no trace of wrath.
His death was not a big affair,
Yet those who knew his heart were moved;
The life that bore such pain, and yet
His gentle love and joy had proved.
For such is he whose patience wins
Above his selfishness and pride.
A legacy was left behind,
A one that hopelessness defied.
Libby is a follower of Jesus who is an avid reader of good books. Her passion is music and making the gospel known among those who haven’t heard its message. She loves to write, mostly stories, poetry, essays, and character sketches, and writes for the homeschool website ApricotPie. Her goal is always to give God glory through her music, writings, and everyday life!