Pray, Cometh the Man

A man without borders, a man without flags;

a man without trophies; no egos or brags.

A man without anger, a man without hate;

a man without power, no crown or estate.

A man without fortune, no towers of wealth,

a hole for a button, a string for a belt.

A Muslim, Christian; Jewish or Jain;

all brothers in life and treated the same.

No gods of his own, no single belief

but the rise of a sparrow, the veins of a leaf.

A man of the moment, a man without pride,

a man with a mission who’ll not be denied.

A man without spite, possessions or greed,

wants for nought, but for others in need.

A man of the morrow, a man of the road;

a man of wisdom and no fixed abode.

Worry ye not, your colour or creed,

your race or class, ’tis blood you bleed.

A man with a hope, a heart and a smile;

if you’re needing a word he’ll linger awhile.

A man for all men, the leper, the poor;

if imprisoned you are, he’ll open the door.

If hungry and down or needing a bed

he’ll lay down a pallet and see you are fed.

The weary, the sick, the battered and bruised

the trodden, forgotten, the lost and abused.

He’ll seek you out when hears your cry

whatever your wants, he’ll never deny.

To the airs of peace in praise of all,

through summer, spring, winter and fall.

He was beaten and shot, burnt at the stake;

hung from a rope to the ovens to bake.

Was gassed, was starved and crucified;

the torturer’s prize, in slavery died.

And yet he survives when needing a friend,

when needing a hand, his hand he will lend

No order, or club, no party or clan.

Oh, where forth art thou, pray, cometh the man.