I hardly think about Dad anymore,

Now my concerns about me!

Fifty years older than he now,

As he died about forty-three.



My dad, a great preacher man, I know

Accomplished more in that time

Than many of us, no all of us

In my family combined!



Swindon, England his birthplace,

Stateside bound at age sixteen.

Worked his way on a steamship,

Nyack, New Jersey seemed–



Like, forever his education!

India that was his call,

Impatient but dedicated,

We embarked one and all!



I was six months, my brother two years,

Adventure for him and myself!

Ten years for growing up and school!

Monotony laid on the shelf!



Father was impatient to get going

Language study a bore!

Teacher became his interpreter,

Converted!  He asked for more!



He got it, preaching as father did!

The two a perfect pair!

Sincerity stamped their features as

They thundered the Gospel there!



“Why waste time at language study?

Young converts can preach, too!”

They preached everywhere!  The perfect team!

How better could they do?



Forgot!  Oh, yes!  Forgot about me,

Great-grandchildren, seventeen!

My only claim to fame, I fear,

So I on my father lean.



Maybe someday my great-grandson, Luke,

Will brag about this poor soul!

I have been everywhere done everything!

Now everything is under control!



Someday Hanna and Luke will know

Their great-grandfather, long gone

“In the sweet by and by,” they will hear

Just where did he find that song?



Father’s Day Sam Cox 06-09

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