There go I  . . . but by the Grace of God
by Michelle Stace


The beggar man wanders lonely in the street;
No coat, no food, no shelter, no place to rest his feet.

There go I  . . . but by the Grace of God.

Behind the prison bars is a man who killed another;
Have I not done the same when I say I hate my brother?

There go I  . . . but by the Grace of God.

A tiny, frail old woman barely gets along;
Her children they are scattered, busy on their own.

There go I  . . . but by the Grace of God.

There is an alcoholic, the bottle his only friend;
It's made his life a prison, is there release before the end?

There go I . . . but by the Grace of God.

The broken, pain racked body of one crippled in a chair;
Who will bear the burden to give constant tender care?

There go I . . . but by the Grace of God.

The battered, beaten child looks up with haunted eyes;
She longs for caring arms to soothe her painful cries.

There go I  . . . but by the Grace of God.

A mother lost her daughter to passing pleasures of this world;
She has been forsaken and rejected by her little girl.

There go I  . . . but by the Grace of God.

The grinding life of poverty so weary to the bones;
The rich in their abundance do not hear their pleading moans.

There go I . . . but by the Grace of God.

So easy for one to say, "poor, poor lady,"  "poor old man."
But where are compassionate hearts and helping hands?

Our life is as a vapor, tomorrow is unknown;
We may be a breath away from trouble of our own.

Jesus says, "Love thy neighbor as thyself and love your enemies"
"As you have done it unto these, you have done it unto Me."

There go I  by  the Grace of God.


Home              Poems