Somehow a fellow can’t express
The feelings he has had,
While through the years he’s walked and talked
And laughed and played with Dad.
He cannot put in words the love,
The pride that wells within,
The admiration in his heart
Whene’er Dad looks at him.
Dad is the hero of his dreams,
This king upon the throne;
The pattern for that ideal life
Which he would make his own.
He knows that Dad well understands
The conflicts in his breast,
And shares the problems he must face
Though often unexpressed.
The pressure of his Dad’s strong hand,
The look deep in his eyes,
Speaks volumes to a fellow’s heart,
When cares of life arise.
And when he kneels with Dad in prayer
Before the throne of grace,
The glory of the unseen world
Illumines all the place.
How could a fellow go astray
Who with his Dad has stood,
Within the secret place of prayer—
Before a holy God!
And this my constant prayer shall be,
Until this life is done,
My conduct here shall honor him
Who proudly calls me, “son.”
Painting by Daniel Garhantz