My father's voice
Far back as I remember, my father’s voice was strong,
Preaching from the pulpit or belting out a song,
A joyful noise to heaven, fresh insights to impart,
His words a revelation, a life song from the heart.
A man of deep conviction, he always sought the truth.
He spoke and people listened, the hero of my youth.
In times of fret or worry, when I felt scared or low,
His gentle words brought comfort more than he’ll ever know.
He ministered to others. Redemption was his call.
He never judged the cover. His love embraced us all.
The least of these his brothers, downtrodden, jailed, and weak.
He lent his voice to champion for those who could not speak.
But now that voice is silent. His body lives no more.
He may have lost this battle, but man, he won the war.
