Of all of the colors in Godís color wheel,
The one most maligned would be brown.
We talk about brown in disparaging terms,
Grimacing, face set in a frown.
But God made brown dirt in which seedlings survive,
Producing most foods that we love.
Brown bark on our trees holds the moisture within,
Protects them like hands in a glove.
Itís true little boys like to play in the mud
By stomping around in bare feet.
Since pigs donít have sweat glands wet brown mud is used
To cool their skin off in the heat.
And what about chocolate, brown sparrows, brown bears,
And roast beef and hot dogs and toast?
Our devilís food cake and brown raisins and tea;
We surely would miss these the most.
A woodchuck is brown as are coffee, baked beans,
And pine cones, a stuffed teddy bear.
Brown hair, peanut butter, a beaver and nuts,
We see signs of brown everywhere.
Brown was the stable where Mary gave birth
To Jesus, the Savior of men.
Brown was the manger the infant lay in,
We read it again and again.
The cross Jesus carried was wood of light brown,
The crown on his head was brown thorns,
The blood from his wounds turned from crimson to brown;
For this he would earn mankindís scorns.
Godís palette is made up of reds, pinks and blues;
The yellows make quite a display,
But what I would give to kneel down before Christ
To kiss His brown sandals today.
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