I see them dying in the streets
Their cries disturb my rest
One hundred thousand bodies lie
With thousands in distress.
The weeping children without hope
Their outstretched hands for help
Are haunting scenes that move my heart
While tremors still are felt.
Mothers lie within the rubble
Husbands dig to free a wife
Smells of death are all around them
Little hope for them in sight.
Soon supplies begin to enter
Food and water meet some needs
But the overwhelming question
Are the orphans in the streets.
Mended bones can help the wounded
Food supply for those in need
But the future of this Nation
Is far greater than these deeds.
As we give and pray together
For our friends in deep distress
Let us share the love of Jesus
The true Source of happiness.
--B. Pent
2 comments:
Beautiful poem, Dad! Was hearing this morning about the Church in Haiti and of those seeking Him. Praying for a huge harvest of souls to turn to Jesus...greater numbers than the dead!
papa that so perfect i loved your
poem!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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