Haven't I seen your face before? When last I walked this way, I never noticed you. I was blinded by other things such small and nameless things were you always there? I couldn't see your wounds or scars, you felt no warmth from me; of how, could you ever call me, "friend?" Neighbor, dear neighbor, what shall I do? Could the touch of my hand be his gift to you? and have I walked by your way, saying others will stay? When next I come, will his work be done? For today, I'm going your way. His eyes were kind, they saw everything and whene'er he walked my way, He always noticed me. I was sorrowing for many things through pain and suffering he was always there. He could see every wound and scar He gave new life to me; of how, Could I ever serve my friend? Neighbor, dear neighbor, yes, I will do. May the touch of my hand be his gift to you. And as I pass by your way, I will see you and pray "Each time I come, may his work be done. Dear Savior, I'm going your way." --DarEll S. Hoskisson
I watched my daughter
standing in line for cotton candy
at a school fundraising fair.
She was so kind,
she gave her place in line
to all the little children who came up behind her.
It quickly became clear
that she would NEVER get some, too;
and it would not have hurt a soul
if she’d just kept her place in line.
© 2013 DarEll S. Hoskisson (dsh)