Upon the street I found a trail
A trail I knew so well
It showed how oft in Christ we fail
To keep a child from hell
Crumpled paper on the ground
How plain was marked the course
I stooped to pick each piece I found
Until I found the source
Upon a bridge he’d made his stand
At first it seemed alone
But when I saw him tracts in hand
The Lord was on His throne
With tender smile upon his face
His aged head aloft
His words were steeped in Jesus’ grace
While man walked by and scoffed
“Please take one friend, I’d like to share
What Christ has done for me
Please take it home and read it there
It comes from God quite free”
“How must you feel” To him I said
“You stand here every day
You give out tracts like loaves of bread
And see them thrown away”
He said. “My friend I can’t complain
In Christ I place my hope
It’s through His blood I’m born again
and so my friend I cope
So here I stand in Jesus’ name
Through such a tract I’m free
I too was lost and blind with shame
But now thank God I see”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem