The Happy Man

The sun bore down upon his back
A man tilling the ground;
He works from sunrise to sunset
Not complaining or making a sound.

He’d stop for a moment of prayer
Then quickly hurry on;
The image that haunted his mind kept him going
The image – his starving son.

At the end of the day he collected his pay
His wages a loaf of bread;
He walked the moonlit path home
Body aching for nothing but bed.

Arriving at home he is met by his son
Running and squealing with glee;
They sit down at the table bowing their heads
Thanking the Lord for what they see.

The supper ends soon, far too quickly
Father reaches for his Bible—well worn;
With caring hands he pieces together
The pages, now torn.

Reading, Father, Mother and son
Sit quietly together content;
The few hours pass quickly but far from wasted
Words could not express what they meant.

A soft glow burns in the window of the little house
Interrupting the dark of night;
A father sits by the bed of his boy
Holding the lifeless form tight.

He’d lost his wife and now his son
But God will help him through;
He softly whispers into the dark
“Father hold my hand, keep me close to you!”

Far across the country in a different place
A man is dressed to look;
His family, his clothes, all his possessions
Just like a storybook.

Never worked a day in his life
He has everything under the sun;
All he ever thinks of is himself
What would he enjoy, what would be fun.

But don’t worry he give to others
His daughters point and its theirs;’
He doesn’t love his wife but he’s good to her
Sometimes he pretends he cares.
Sometimes people watch him in awe
And whisper to themselves “if only…”
But really, think of this man
He and his family are phonies!

Sure he has many possessions
And many a materialistic thing;
But when his life on this earth is over
What joy to him will they bring?

Without his checkbook and bank card
Where would this man be?
He’d be lost in a dying world
Bitterness, all he’d see.

How very unlike the poor man
See the poor man is not a fraud;
He’s not a poor man with nothing
But a poor man rich in God.

Denotatively the rich man has everything
Everything except for hope.
But connotatively the poor man has all
He knows the linking rope.

What is the linking rope you ask?
It’s believing in the Almighty One;
The one who dies for you and me
Jesus, God’s only Son.

So which do you think is happier?
The rich man or the poor?
The one with eternal security?
Or the man who worldly has more?