That was the end,
for called to serve he provided service
and perished for truthâ€™s sake.
The tale is told of a wooden nickel
locked up in a box and missing.
â€˜Where did it go?â€™ everyone asked.
â€˜The service man must find it, he held the box.â€™
But there was an Over Sear
who opened and closed the box EVERYDAY.
When it counts to account
for the wooden nickel, he was let go
and signature of the service man
nailed him to the cross.
His freedom seized for a
punitive end and embattled,
he fought back, whence his battle ship,
on dwell mission, drifted to
domain of adversary from force of
wind blowing it. Then it wandered
and foundered, wrecked and dismembered
from sharp of rock, his followers in disarray,
as the sheep of Jesus Christ
smitten and disciples scattered.
Now, he in affliction
and tethered in sick bay, my core
chore of in and out of hospital,
strengthened him, fortified our
solid bond to wade the adversity
wrought by change; he talked down our
challenger foe, reminding him of our power
in good times and bad times, his moral
He was away to house of peril and I wept sore.
But now back, attired in black stripe
solid white. Abomination! O never again!
When I ran some errand,
walking by his restraint habitation
he called my name and I turned
and found him â€¦
â€˜here am I, said I, send meâ€™ like Abraham.