My pastor, I will not forget,
and wasn't my first choice,
to lead my favorite gospel hymns
with his low, raspy voice.
He couldn't seem to keep a beat
or hit a single note.
He once admitted to us all,
he sounded like a goat!
At times, the sermon, he'd forget.
Sometimes he'd drop his cane.
Most thought he was a special man -
but some, a bit insane.
Though he was sometimes questioned by
his well-intentioned peers,
a wisdom came to flourish from
vast Bible-reading years.
He often had a part-time job,
yet seemed to be around,
to answer all my crazy calls
with questions more profound.
Although he eased my fears and pain,
he had fears of his own.
Because we never heard complaints,
his ills were rarely known.
He sometimes lost his glasses and
the few announcements too.
His pocket watch would sometimes stop.
He fell a time or two.
His clumsiness was obvious,
He spilled his water cup.
Though Satan tried distracting him,
he never did give up.
So preach, he did, each Sunday morn,
through babies cries or cough.
He'd speak awhile and then some more,
'till grandpa dozed right off.
His speech would race, emotions great -
he'd tell us of God's Son,
who had to die to save the lost -
for me and everyone.
Once grandpa 'sawed his logs' quite loud.
Who knew what grandpa dreamed?
Yet pastor never missed a beat.
So futile preaching seemed.
Sometimes I'd reminisce when he
would knock on grandpa's door -
to visit him when he was sick,
then here, dismiss his snore.
But higher still, than grandpa's snore -
his words echoed above.
He'd pound down on my hardened heart
the softness of God's love.
I'll not forget his alter calls,
his passioned plea, to come -
and lay my every burden down -
so Christian, I'd become.
And one thing more I'll not forget,
in sermons through the weeks -
that he loved every one of us -
the proof ran down his cheeks.
My pastor, I will not forget.
He wasn't my first choice.
Delighted, though, I'd be again
to hear that raspy voice.
and wasn't my first choice,
to lead my favorite gospel hymns
with his low, raspy voice.
He couldn't seem to keep a beat
or hit a single note.
He once admitted to us all,
he sounded like a goat!
At times, the sermon, he'd forget.
Sometimes he'd drop his cane.
Most thought he was a special man -
but some, a bit insane.
Though he was sometimes questioned by
his well-intentioned peers,
a wisdom came to flourish from
vast Bible-reading years.
He often had a part-time job,
yet seemed to be around,
to answer all my crazy calls
with questions more profound.
Although he eased my fears and pain,
he had fears of his own.
Because we never heard complaints,
his ills were rarely known.
He sometimes lost his glasses and
the few announcements too.
His pocket watch would sometimes stop.
He fell a time or two.
His clumsiness was obvious,
He spilled his water cup.
Though Satan tried distracting him,
he never did give up.
So preach, he did, each Sunday morn,
through babies cries or cough.
He'd speak awhile and then some more,
'till grandpa dozed right off.
His speech would race, emotions great -
he'd tell us of God's Son,
who had to die to save the lost -
for me and everyone.
Once grandpa 'sawed his logs' quite loud.
Who knew what grandpa dreamed?
Yet pastor never missed a beat.
So futile preaching seemed.
Sometimes I'd reminisce when he
would knock on grandpa's door -
to visit him when he was sick,
then here, dismiss his snore.
But higher still, than grandpa's snore -
his words echoed above.
He'd pound down on my hardened heart
the softness of God's love.
I'll not forget his alter calls,
his passioned plea, to come -
and lay my every burden down -
so Christian, I'd become.
And one thing more I'll not forget,
in sermons through the weeks -
that he loved every one of us -
the proof ran down his cheeks.
My pastor, I will not forget.
He wasn't my first choice.
Delighted, though, I'd be again
to hear that raspy voice.
***
We love you pastor. You're sincere.
Oh, how we all recall,
the many ways we challenged you.
You rose above it all.
There's so much more you did for us.
Compassion you could share.
You've 'walked the talk' so faithfully,
so this begins our prayer...
"Dear Jesus, hear us. Give this man
a very special place.
You'll know him when you see him there -
for he reflects Your grace.
Today, we'll reminisce and miss,
past times that slipped away.
We thank you for our pastor and,
his very special way..."
©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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