Thursday, 13 May 2010

THE FROG



Sitting weeding one fine day
In glorious sun of early May
I reached forward to clear more land
When a little frog jumped on my hand

I got a shock there’s no doubt
I did not scream but gave a shout
For you see I got a scare
To have that frog sitting there

Feeling cold and a little wet
It sends shivers up my spine yet
I had shouted but it never spoke
Not a whisper or a croak

On my hand taking a seat
With bulging eyes and webbed feet
I looked at it, it looked back
The hairs were rising on my neck

I was recovering from the shock
Felt my knees no longer knock
Wishing it would hop away a mile
But it only seemed to give a smile

And I fancied yes somehow
The frog was speaking to me now
To hop on your hand give me pardon
But thank you for this lovely garden

I spend so many happy hours
Catching flies among the flowers
But most of all of this I’m fond
The deep still water of the pond

No water pools in countryside
But in your pond I can hide
In its water I can spawn
For meadow dams now are gone

I know you find me repulsive here
Although from your garden I clear
The pests and flies and nasty bug
And most of all the slimy slug

No home for me in dried up bog
But your garden is heaven for a frog
Now that is all I have got to say
As from my hand he leaped away

I turned again to weed the sod
Thinking how our sin repulsed our God
Yet He loved us just the same
Sacrificed His Son to take our blame

He who is holy and so just
Could have shunned us in disgust
From His presence forever banned
But He reaches out with His hand

Bids us come hold it tight
For we are precious in His sight
Not like me to my shame
When to my hand a frog it came

What if God treated us this way?
I am repulsed by you, hear Him say
No habitat in His garden above
We are too revolting for Him to love

A frog I fancied begged my pardon
Thanked me for a beautiful garden
So on my knees I called Jesus name
To thank Him for granting me the same


Colin Moffett