TITLE: X Marks the Spot By Lisa Anderson 01/05/07 |
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The painful tears the young man cried
Before the man he’d known
His dear father had just died
The young man was alone
Why didn’t he write? Why not call?
The young man sat and pondered
For years they had not talked at all
No apologies were offered
He wondered what his father left
To him since he rebelled
Getting caught for petty theft
Which got him expelled
Cleaning through his fathers things
Was harder than he’d planned
Then he found among some strings
A map of a known land
At quick glance he saw an X
With lines marking the way
On the back, a small index
Of things for which to pray
A smile cracked as he thought
Treasure – could it be
His father must have left a lot,
An inheritance for me
So off he went hoping to find
For what he did not know
Things his father left behind
Treasure he did forgo
He found the trail on a hill
Rugged and overgrown
So he followed it until
He was far out and alone
Finally he was closer and
There was something up ahead
Not quite what he had planned
His map he must’ve misread
He glanced at the map once more
And clearly it must be
Not an X, but a cross
Plain as the eye can see
Getting on his knees to pray
The journey long in measure
Was not at all a loss that day
For Jesus was the treasure
So his inheritance was not
Money, gold or riches
Life through Christ’s blood was bought
A love beyond his wishes
‘Twas not wealth his father had
Just some logs and nails
The reminder made him glad
God’s love never fails.
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