Always has been one of my
favorite's...and seems appropriate now
I was in Mansfield. Ohio, sitting on a platform about to speak. The Pastor of the church where I was speaking leaned over and whispered to me that there was a certain lady in the back whose husband had cancer. He asked me to pray for her and for him. After the service, several people came by to express their burdens and heartaches and divulge the loads they carried. I went to my room and thought of the many people in my own church who carry similar loads. My mind settled on one particular one who just a few days before had looked through tears toward me to ask, "Why, Pastor, why?" These meditations caused me to sit in my motel room one Labor Day afternoon and pen the following lines:
I have sat beside a tiny crib,
And watched a baby die,
As parents slowly turned toward me,
To ask, "Oh, Pastor, why?"
I have held the youthful husband's head,
And felt death's heave and sigh.
A widow looked through tears and said,
"Dear Pastor, tell me why?"
I have seen a gold-star mother weep,
And hold a picture nigh
Her lonely breast, and softly ask,
"Why? Pastor, why, oh, why?"
I have walked away from babyland,
Where still-born babies lie.
A mother stretches empty arms,
And asks me, "Pastor, why?"
I have watched my drunken Father leave
Our home, and say "good-bye,"
While looking into Mother's face
I asked, "Please tell me why?"
I have heard the white-tipped tapping cane,
Which leads a blinded eye.
And then a darkened, lonely voice
Cries, Preacher, show me why."
I have caught a fiancee's burning tears,
And heard her lonely cry.
She held an unused wedding gown,
And shouted, "Pastor, why?"
I have heard the cancer patient say,
" 'Tis gain for me to die;"
Then look into his daughter's face,
And mutely whisper, "Why?"
I have seen a father take his life,
A widow stands nearby;
As little children say, "Dear Mom,
The Preacher'll tell us why."
I've seen my mother stand beside
Two tiny graves and cry.
And though she's never let me know,
I knew she wondered, "Why?"
I've heard an orphan faintly say,
Who gazed into the sky,
"Tho Mom and Dad have gone away,
My Preacher will know why."
I tiptoed to my Father's throne,
So timid and so shy,
To say, "Dear God, some of Your own
Are wanting to know why."
I heard him say so tenderly,
"Their eyes I'll gladly dry,
Tho they must look through faith today,
Tomorrow they'll know why."
"If now they find the reasons that
Their hopes have gone awry,
In Heaven, they will miss the joy
Of hearing Me tell why."
And so I've found it pleases Him
When I can testify,
"I'll trust my God to do what's best,
And wait to find out why."
I was in Mansfield. Ohio, sitting on a platform about to speak. The Pastor of the church where I was speaking leaned over and whispered to me that there was a certain lady in the back whose husband had cancer. He asked me to pray for her and for him. After the service, several people came by to express their burdens and heartaches and divulge the loads they carried. I went to my room and thought of the many people in my own church who carry similar loads. My mind settled on one particular one who just a few days before had looked through tears toward me to ask, "Why, Pastor, why?" These meditations caused me to sit in my motel room one Labor Day afternoon and pen the following lines:
I have sat beside a tiny crib,
And watched a baby die,
As parents slowly turned toward me,
To ask, "Oh, Pastor, why?"
I have held the youthful husband's head,
And felt death's heave and sigh.
A widow looked through tears and said,
"Dear Pastor, tell me why?"
I have seen a gold-star mother weep,
And hold a picture nigh
Her lonely breast, and softly ask,
"Why? Pastor, why, oh, why?"
I have walked away from babyland,
Where still-born babies lie.
A mother stretches empty arms,
And asks me, "Pastor, why?"
I have watched my drunken Father leave
Our home, and say "good-bye,"
While looking into Mother's face
I asked, "Please tell me why?"
I have heard the white-tipped tapping cane,
Which leads a blinded eye.
And then a darkened, lonely voice
Cries, Preacher, show me why."
I have caught a fiancee's burning tears,
And heard her lonely cry.
She held an unused wedding gown,
And shouted, "Pastor, why?"
I have heard the cancer patient say,
" 'Tis gain for me to die;"
Then look into his daughter's face,
And mutely whisper, "Why?"
I have seen a father take his life,
A widow stands nearby;
As little children say, "Dear Mom,
The Preacher'll tell us why."
I've seen my mother stand beside
Two tiny graves and cry.
And though she's never let me know,
I knew she wondered, "Why?"
I've heard an orphan faintly say,
Who gazed into the sky,
"Tho Mom and Dad have gone away,
My Preacher will know why."
I tiptoed to my Father's throne,
So timid and so shy,
To say, "Dear God, some of Your own
Are wanting to know why."
I heard him say so tenderly,
"Their eyes I'll gladly dry,
Tho they must look through faith today,
Tomorrow they'll know why."
"If now they find the reasons that
Their hopes have gone awry,
In Heaven, they will miss the joy
Of hearing Me tell why."
And so I've found it pleases Him
When I can testify,
"I'll trust my God to do what's best,
And wait to find out why."
