Redeeming the Lost
By: Joyce E. Johnson
The wandering lone man sat down by the track.
He could not hide nor change the fact
While watching people board the train,
That he smelled no better than the sewer drain.
His body sick, and tired in its shell,
Aching from the cold grew accustomed to the smell.
He could once pick from hats, and socks
When he stayed at the shelter down by the boat docks.
But another man forced him outside on the stairs
When it became crowded. Now his socks had tears.
He still had the marks from when he was beaten.
He lost count of the number of days he’d last eaten.
He could remember when he was young
Recalling the words from his mother that stung,
“I can’t keep you. Fend for yourself.”
Then left in a hurry with no food on the shelf
She packed and ran off with some strange man
Leaving him alone, saying, “I’m going with Stan.”
The experience turned his heart to stone.
He had no other place to live or call home.
He raised his head as if hearing a sound.
He’d fallen asleep on the damp, hard ground.
Blinking with wonder what appeared was a vision
Stood a figure beside him; not scorn or derision
Helping him up from the ground where he lay
His touch comforting, not a word did he say.
The sound of singing and joyful noise heard
From a candle lit hallway soft music spurred
Him to follow the angel into the light
Of a church that welcomed him to dinner this night.
A splintered old cross was raised on one wall,
Loincloth and crown of thorns lay propped in the hall.
While seated and served in the banquet room,
He heard about a Savior, and an empty tomb.
From out of the clutches of despair and strife,
Walked a wandering, lone man into redemption and life.
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