Wounded Soldiers

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WOUNDED SOLDIERS

We love the unlovely,

Though battered and worn;

We love the unlovely,

Clothes tattered and torn.

 

We love the unlovely,

Through drink, drugs and sin;

We love the unlovely,

For Christ, take them in.

 

But what of the others?

Those ‘just off’ the track;

Do we reach out our hands?

Or just turn our back?

 

And what of the ones who ‘don’t quite get it right’,

March into battle, and then turn in flight?

‘They ought to know better’, we often will say,

But how do we know, what has been in their day?

 

"Christ longs for the lost",

We may well justify;

And smugly we seek them

While hurt brothers cry.

 

"Bring them in, and convert them",

It all sounds so grand;

Till we turn and desert them

Once their feet touch the sand.

 

"Feed My lambs", said the Master,

Not ‘just round them up’,

Start them off with a bottle,

They’ll move on to a cup.

 

And each time a brother should stumble and fall,

Reach a hand out to help him, if he’s big or he’s small.

Don’t scorn him for failing, nor make him feel bad,

Such things do not honour, our heavenly Dad.

 

Seek the lost sheep and find them, and bring them to Me,

And yes we all know, this is Jesus’ decree;

But there was another, that He gave us too,

That we love one another, "As I have loved you!"

 

The Kingdom must grow, and new people be found,

But the wounded within, by our love, must be bound.

We must seek out the new, but hold on to the old,

Lest we end with no sheep, only lambs in the fold.

© 4/5/97