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.