God's Daughters And His Sons (Poverty) Poem by A. P. Hancock

Dedicated to All the Poor of the World

I saw my old friend Cal today, in the pew as I talked with the folks.
The folks are the Sunday morning bunch, who laugh at my little jokes.
They’re not too bad for a Sunday bunch, at least they offer the ride.
They also do the sandwich thing, that helps the hunger subside.

But I looked out over the crowd that day, and the thing I didn’t see
Was the folks and the Cals locked arm in arm, the picture was them and me.
Them and me just doesn’t seem, to be the Holy way.
Cause Jesus ate with everyone, there was no He and they.

Don’t get me wrong the Cals were glad, to be there and worship the King.
But they need the King to be in the folks, like that song we sometimes sing.
Hands and feet that go and hug, that venture past the zone.
They need a love that’s color blind, a love that pitches no stone.

So I wandered on that fateful day, if I would live to be
A part of a bunch that didn’t mind, if church was a potporri.
A church that cared with all their hearts, for the weak and little ones
Who are just as precious as all of us, God’s daughters and His sons.