I know a man whose own two hands
Are God's own tools each day,
And all the time I've known this man,
I've never seen him sway.
His life is as a stream of love,
Smooth and sweet, but firm and strong.
When e'er I look into his face,
It seems to bring a song.
I always hear a story from him,
The story's words so sweet,
And every time I hear him pray,
It brings me to my knees.
His name is rarely written down,
His face is not too known,
But one day he will own a crown,
When he arrives at home.
I could make his face more known,
And make his name more heard,
But he is not of glorified self.
He dwells on God's own word.
I know many men of this description,
But none so knowing of the master.
You may never hear his name,
But he's my loving pastor.
About the poem: written for/about the pastor of Grace Baptist Church (in Delta, UT)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
HEY THIS IS AWESOME! WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR INSPIRATIONS FROM? ? ? IF ONLY I COULD WRITE LIKE THAT.. MAN! THAT'S JUST AWESOME!