I heard him in his room at noon, at night
Asking God for wisdom, grace and light.
Unrelenting passion filled his heart,
Trusting God would answer from the start.
Praying hard: he sought, he groaned, he sighed . . .
That’s how I’d describe the man who cried.
I saw him kneeling early in the morn
Calling out for sinners he had warned.
Simple words of power touched his lips,
Wetted eyes released their salty drips.
Bowing at the throne while others slept . . .
That’s how I’d describe the man who wept.
I heard his voice beside the young man’s grave
Telling friends about the Lord who saves.
Hugging those who mourned, his soul could hear
Every sadness, quiver, sigh, and tear.
Hurting when folks hurt; he sympathized . . .
That’s how I’d describe the man who agonized.
I saw him in the garden full of praise
Singing psalms with arms and hands upraised.
God had answered his request at last:
Fruit had come, so he would break the fast.
Thanking God just like a little boy . . .
That’s how I’d describe the man of joy.