The pastor from our local church,
Called on me one day,
To see if I could help him out,
With poems I had to say.
It was a visit to the old folks’ home,
There to recite and pray,
To bring to them a message,
And brighten up their day.
Now as I gazed across the chairs,
Seated on a lounge,
Was the face of an old-timer,
Wrinkled, burnt and brown.
The Man From Snowy River,
Was his request to me,
And as I gave him my rendition,
Yes! It jogged his memory.
For when I’d finished my recital,
His cheeks were wet with tears,
He had somehow paid a visit,
To where he’d never been in years.
Beyond those wrinkled features,
He’d gazed back on his past,
He wondered where the years had gone,
And how they’d passed so fast.
When he was young he fought in war
And led a life carefree,
Met a girl and married,
Then raised a family.
But the years they passed and he grew old,
His wife, she passed away,
His family they lived elsewhere,
He was in that home to stay.
We spoke awhile about his past,
On his cheeks the tears had dried,
He was at peace it seemed at last,
I could see it in his eyes.
We then shook hands and said farewell,
I departed from the scene,
Deep in thought I visualised,
Just where his thoughts had been.
Now as I drove off down the street,
It seemed like just a dream,
My thoughts they seemed to be elsewhere,
Then the lights they turned to green.
Yes! The Holy Spirit spoke to me,
Through that dear old man,
Bringing me the message,
One that was so grand.
When you are young your future,
When old becomes your past,
Except when Christ our Saviour,
Becomes your friend at last.
He’d realised there was a future,
Through Christ who paid the price,
On the cross at Calvary,
To give eternal life.
That’s why the old man’s eye were bright,
He had realised there at last,
Our future lies in heaven,
Not back there in the past.