The younger man sat looking at his father,
so worn, so tired, so thin.
Who stood at the brink of the water,
knowing from deep within.

That his father was about to ford,
cold dark Jordan so wide.
And pass to him the torch,
then cross to the other side.

He met those faded eyes of grey,
knowing over which would soon come deaths glaze.
Holding back the tears, proving to his dad, no sway,
doing his best to shoulder the load when dads spirit fades.

'Son,' the older man said through pain,
'I now pass on the final lesson plan.
'It's your world now over which to gain,
the burden of souls and the salvation plan.

But my cross you're too small to carry,
even though you are a man.
His cross, for which to tarry,
you must shoulder for your lifes span.

For your burdens He will haul,
if on Him you depend.
If on Him you'll call,
He will be there to the end.

But shouldering the burden of each sheeps call,
will drive you surely to a great fall.
In health, family, fortune and all,
but on Him lean, and you'll stand tall.

It's now your world; my challenge I embraced,
and finished only, by His Amazing Grace.
Lean not to your own understanding,
this test you'll easily ace.

The cup is sometimes bitter,
but to follow His call.
Will prove you're no quitter,
when you stand and drink it all.

The eyes of the old saint slowly closed in death
as he stepped across Jordan for his rest
As his son stepped forward to prevent the fall
of the torch, and answer his own call.

Your dads life's work he did not shirk,
he equipped you thoroughly for the work.
A huge part of his great and mighty reward,
will be to see you hand the torch forward.

And say to whom you pass your torch,
'put your hand to the plow.'
And as you rest from the heat and the scorch,
'It's your world now.'