The Grace of God

He has this strange disease, his cross to bear,  

to him, my gifted life's pie in the sky,  

I walk right by and barely see him there,  

yet there but for the grace of God go I.  

I never act the Good Samaritan,

the friends I'm playing with drown down his cry,

I never wonder what he does for fun,

that there but for the grace of God go I.

I'm full of fun, so healthy, happy, free,

I don't see Christ in him or even try--

"What you do to the least, you do to Me,"

or there but for the grace of Christ go I.

Still Judgment Day, Christ, I hope You can see,

not my fun, but Yourself somewhere in me.

                                    -- by Pete Voelz      4/11

(Dedicated to a new friend and an old friend)