That Worn Book


That Worn Book

My grandpa was a quiet man

I often found him dull

I didn’t hear the still small voice

That quieted him in awe


He liked to read, and so did I

But I could hardly fathom

Why out of all the lovely books

It was the worn one he was grabbin’


It hardly ever left his side 

Though it’s pages torn and frayed

As it’s binding fell apart

His heart had filled with faith


I didn’t know that one worn book

could change more than one soul

Until my grandpa’s final gift

that worn book he bestowed.


Holding it with pages ripped

And creases down its spine

With golden letters, bold and etched

Calling me inside


I sat as he had often did

And gazed up at the sky

How could I have missed this?

I asked as tears fell from my eyes


Inside the book, my grandpa wrote

On every page and line

I pray my grandson grows to know

Our savior, Jesus Christ.


The greatest story ever told

resides not on a shelf

but in the heart of those who know

the author, God, Himself. 


I wonder what my grandson thinks

Does he feel God’s light?

I place the worn book in his hands

And pray he holds it tight. 






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