A poor, wanting fellow he may have seemed,
Riding his bike everywhere, who knew where he'd been?
He gave me a handbag I use for my hat,
We had a friendly, laid-back, encouraging chat.
His apartment was in the bad part of town,
Drugs common place there as is acting like a clown.
Assuming he didn't have much to his name,
He knew Jesus, was kind to all with whom in contact he came.
His eyes glowed with Christ's light,
His smiling lips in spiritual warfare put up quite a fight.
All he wanted was the world's salvation,
Looked upon as Jesus was, he with little to no reputation.
The down-and-out knew he would listen,
When touched by the Holy Spirit his eyes, too, would glisten.
In his heart he served God with all his might,
Carefully to others he'd portray the scriptures' Light.
He may well have put a stop to many a heist,
If only in his actions those drug-addled saw Christ,
It would be more than their lives of pain
Could fathom or find a way to explain.
Others in their struggles he wouldn't taunt,
He had a degree, yet his knowledge he didn't flaunt.
He was nitty-gritty, this guy was for real,
Even in a soup kitchen he'd say a blessing before his meal.
All the ground he on his bicycle discovered
Is the LORD's and by Jesus' blood is claimed and covered.