Sitting with a Bible in his hand
He thumbs the well -worn pages like before
The evening young and he an aged man
He seeks to understand his Maker more
Sitting in the dark in frayed attire
He feels the chill of winter coming in
He throws another log into the fire
And looks into his Bible once again
He learned to love the pages as a boy
And sought to keep his faith alive and strong
And in the face of threats to rob his joy
The years had somehow left him with a song
A rough and shaky finger scans the lines
And well he knows the old familiar words
He thinks of all the times they've met his eyes
It's still the goodest news he's ever heard
