Wheel Barrel Christian

I pulled you hard from deep within,
from a trash heap dead in sin.
From your true and certain peril -
I lifted you - a wheel barrel.

You long outlasted rusty peers
and persevered for many years.
Diligent, you worked all day -
never asked an ounce of pay.

Your tire worn - you didn't care.
At times you'd need a little air.
Your wooden sides were warped and bowed
but never once, refused a load.

Working streets or fields of clover
you, at times, would tip right over.
Though humbled there, one might expect,
you hadn't any disrespect.

So willing, you, without excuse -
would faithful take all sins abuse.
Whether weeds or rocks contained,
you never, ever once complained.

And burdened down with dirt or stone,
you never once had worked alone -
for I was there - I pushed a bit,
because I knew you'd never quit.

I gave you every push and shove -
but did it all in Godly love.
Yes, you surpassed the near and far,
and you, my faithful servant are.

This poem was a finalist in the March 2009 poetry contest