Preacher Man

It was the echo of fallen tears,
that found him that day-
As he started by an old headstone,
he paused in the moment to pray

Weeds grown thick and heavy,
still he felt the need-
To lean and pull a few-
if for nothing else, a simple good deed

Gospel preachin’ man, he’d been for years,
his greatest testimony, were the holes in his shoes,
the frayed edges of his out-o-date sports jacket,
but his trust in God, was all he really knew

He’d been to France,
in a sailor’s battleship rack-
But he knew it was God that found him,
and ultimately brought him back

Ever once in a while,
when the night is dark and quiet-
He finds himself back on the deck-
with those that went to fight

Young and tender his jaw clenched tight,
as he watched horror unfold before him-
As the sand turned red; and his blood ran cold-
from where he stood, war was really dim

A small and tiny Bible, he kept within his reach,
he’d take it out from time to time, reading justa’ bit-
The rest, well they called him Preacher man,
and after a while, it seemed to fit

Just before dawn one fateful morn,
across the bow came a mighty blow-
The smoke did rise, and the men they cried-
and the deep claimed many souls

It was him and four others, set adrift,
and in their eyes was fear-
So he reached for the Bible, and found,

Even in battle, God’s word didn’t smear

He’ll never forget the echo,
of tears that fell that day-
As they were pulled from the ocean deep,
they knew God had heard them pray.