To me it seems a silly day,
For I have nothing much to say.
No wisdom in these words of mine,
That just somehow are set to rhyme.
I wonder while in front of Him
If I should feel down deep akin,
To Peter, Andrew, James, and John,
Who walked with Him as He went on?
Through town and village far and near,
While people pushed and shoved to hear,
The teacher of a different kind,
Who read their hearts and stretched their minds.
A parable of chaff and wheat,
Or loving Father there to greet,
A wasteful son who spent his half,
And now whose Father kills the calf.
Did they just take for granted then,
His presence with them there and when
He spoke of suffering and pain,
Did they just think of earthly gain?
Were they like me when offered time
To sit with Him and sip the wine,
But chose the bustle busy beat,
Instead of sitting at His feet?
Amazing what we often find
When we but simply clear the mind.
And sit with Him a little time,
It’s so much more than silly rhyme.
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