Poem by Brett Crosby
The Friend He spoke to every little group, Stopping now and then. Each time to ask each person If they would come join him. He asked with such sincerity, But most just laughed out loud, "Join you? You must be crazy! You're not a part of our crowd!" Some would want to join him But simply were too proud. After all, they couldn't go with him, He wasn't part of the crowd. But still he kept on walking, And he spoke to everyone. He wasn't going to give it up, For he had just begun. In pleading tones he asked them If they'd please just join him. He wasn't asking much, he said ,He wanted them for friends. A few would join from every crowd, But many stayed behind. They couldn't be his friend, because He didn't fit their kind. He didn't dress or act right If he wanted to fit in. Pride just wouldn't let them Even be a friend to him Besides, they had their own friends. They didn't need one more. So they ignored his pleas to them, And went on like before. He'd go away rejected, But he didn't ask again. He asked each person only once, Then left it up to them. Those who joined him weren't so hard Or set upon their ways. In him they saw a person Who might brighten up their days. Those who joined him weren't so hard Or set upon their ways. In him they saw a person Who might brighten up their days. Those who joined him saw he was No ordinary man; And followed, for they saw and felt The nail scars in his hands. By Brett Crosby
Personal Progress - Individual Worth
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