by donna edgar, 2013
I heard on the news today about a homeless man that passed away.
Sweeping sidewalks and taking hand-outs was his only means and pay.
Old Jim always had a smile,
His soft words and manners, mild.
He'd said "God bless you", when given a coin or two,
and was quick to share whatever he had with more than just a few.
He would never say an angry word to those who passed him by,
but his lips would move as in a prayer, then he'd look upward and sigh.
Jim's body was discovered this morning by a policeman making his rounds,
and from an old pocket bible he read a note that fell to the ground;
"I'm not homeless any more; don't count me among the poor.
I'm Heaven bound to walk on crystal shores.
I won't need no shoes, no bed. Just a crown upon my head.
I'm walking on streets of gold like Jesus said.
I won't feel the rain or cold, I'll embrace the Saints of old,
These dirty rags will then be white as snow.
I won't hunger, I won't thrist. You see, I've put my Savior first.
This old man has had a brand new birth.'
He wrote these words with his last breath; he had the victory
As the news anchor wept, the other got up and left.
The weather man knelt down to pray, no one knew quite
what to say. Except; Old Jim is far from poor; he's not homeless any more.