MY FATHER

(Robert Nathaniel Ragan  B. 2-19-1914  D. 3-30-2003)

My father was a humble man,

Scion of a humble clan.

Hardscrabble years full of strife

Were set be his lot in life

He never seemed to get ahead,

Sweat and toil earned his bread.

Rising early , retiring late,

Times I cannot calculate.

He didn't envy those in mansions,

Never followed latest fashions.

A tenth of all he ever earned

In tithe was faithfully returned.

Never did I hear him swear,

Or be anything but fair.

Never did he take to drink,

Never did his courage shrink.

His guiding star was his Savior,

Earnest faith would never waver.

Eyes bedimmed and hair gone gray,

Steadfast on his dying day.

If true there is a blessed heaven,

His rewards are ten times seven.

If any are due the Crown and Robe

They now adorn just plain Bob.

copyright 2016 Ken Ragan