To Rev. George Higgins

Near two score years I know you well

            And saw you walk life’s lane,

With never a change that I could tell,

            But ever just the same

Your serene joy showed all the while

            But yet the more so when

You gave forth gospel with a smile

            While preaching Christ to men

That worldly gain was not your goal

            You proved along the way

By trying to turn the wayward soul,

            For which you asked no pay.

Over the seasons, going back a far,

            You traveled miles unknown,

By foot, horseback, train, bus and car,

            To church and humble home.

You gave no thought toward your time

            Nor such did you record,

In carrying forth, in truths sublime

            The message of your Lord.

Neither rain nor snow, heat nor cold

            Did stay you from your rounds,

To feed those sheep then in His fold,

            And guide others to its bounds.

Then came the day when you were old,

            Your helpmate’s soul had flown,

And only you were of the household;

            But I doubt you were alone.

More time was added to your span

            Of “three score years and ten,”

And you worked on in God’s great plan

            To offer grace to man.

At last there came your call to go,

            With “Mercy” marked thereon,

Thus sparing you from sick-bed woe;

At last there came your call to go,

            With “Mercy” marked thereon,

Thus sparing you from sick-bed woe;

At last there came your call to go,

           With “Mercy” marked thereon,

Thus sparing you from sick-bed woe;

           And suddenly you were gone.

Your sermons can’t be read on Scrolls

           Nor heard, your prayers or song;

Yet within the bounds of many Souls

           Will their echoes linger long.

Submitted by J B Francis