LIttle People on the Paper

LITTLE PEOPLE ON THE PAPER
December 6, 1992

Little people on the paper,
little people who don't breathe:
They cannot move, they cannot waver,
they can't feel to laugh or seethe.

Little people caught in mid-stride,
dressed in clothing never changed.
Intended only to abide,
their stance cannot be rearranged.

Little people drawn with pencil,
seen before, but with the mind,
brought to life with ink and stencil,
yet still deaf and dumb and blind.

Imagination is so vivid,
talent, too, is a fitting thing,
yet next to life, fancy is pallid,
and talent has a rigid ring.

Who but God can make a people,
real people with moving parts,
and place them in a home or steeple
with destinies and beating hearts?

Little people on the paper,
little people who don't know.
They have no sense, they cannot savor,
even I can't help them grow.

And when they lose their usefulness,
in the basket they'll be tossed,
not knowing lies from truthfulness,
never knowing what they've lost.

I'm sure glad that I know Jesus.
I'm sure glad that He is God.
I'm much more than someone's rebus.
The LORD's my Savior and I'm His clod.