RURAL BRYANT, SD, PRESENTS:

As a Grasshopper,"

by Grandson Ronald Ginther

Ate his breakfast at full noon,

Went to town to see what goes,

Expert on the way wind blows.

His ponies munching unmown hay

Made his heart leap on that day;

Corn was planted maybe late,

But that was just his luck or fate.

Man of jollity and blarn,

Had a circus in his barn;

Drawn by horses, it was gay--

A pity it plumb don't pay!

Down the Main Streets far and wide,

Dusty townships hugged their sides;

Lincoln’s stovepipe on his head,

He drove his rigs decked out in red.

Fancy-flagged, the horses pranced,

Made kids squeal, and matrons danced;

How he loved exposure,

Never minding foreclosure.

“Laugh, my friends, ‘tis summer yet;

The ice and snow won’t come, you bet!”

Fiddlin’ high, and fiddlin’ low,

Wiped his nose upon his bow.

Church and preaching were a bore,

He wasn’t apt to dark that door;

Yet for him, he knew what’s what,

His own opinion--solid shut!

And so the grasshopper did play *

Until the winter came one day;

His wife left him, and children too,

Tired of the bills long due.

“Fiddlin’ hard reduces chill,

Life don’t seem a bitter pill;

Maybe tomorrow is the day

When my rigs will big bucks pay.”

Old age found not one red cent,

John was busted--insolvent;

But still there’s the radio,

And politikin’ folderol.

He like as starved, except his son**

Bought some land when he had none;

There he spent his sunset hour--

Reflecting on a life gone sour?

Then one day the wind blew hard

And rains were beating house and yard;

Old John Ginther turned for news

To sharpen up some long-held views.

Instead of party politic

There was announced a fatal crash;

Bob his son, down at Baltic,

His plane reduced to smoking ash.

John was knocked right to his knees,

He could not find the strength to stand;

The radio sank to a wheeze

Just like the last gasp of a band.

Did he then cry out to God?

No, he was too stunned and dazed,

His house was shaken, roof to sod,

Its foundation well nigh razed.***

Soon the old man took to bed,

The time had come to join the Dead;

No longer would his horses prance,

Old Grasshopper had ceased to dance.

His grandson on the Plain View Farm****

Heard the news and felt alarm.

“Hurry up, dear Grandpa now,

Let’s go to him--forget that cow!”

Twelve years made the boy too bold?

But Grandpa Stadem felt hard-pulled.

He postponed chores and drove on down,

And reached the man of once renown.

Appointed to his time to die,

The old man lay with Hell’s flames nigh;

His life wasted, his hour up,

The dregs were drained--a bitter cup!

Grace, Forgiveness, Pardon free,

His callers offered faithfully;#

Shed Blood of Christ all sin wiped out

Must be taken--not lie about!

Confronted on the rim of Hell,

Eyes opened before he fell;

A sinner cried for Christ to save

His soul the way the Father gave.

Saints, rejoice and give God praise,

Glorify Him all your days!

Look how merciful He is,

Find a wonder great as this!

To take a wretch that dashed hopes haunt,@

All prospects spent, his spirit gaunt,

And make a spotless lamb of him--

The world’s best, compared, grows dim.

*** “Therefore, whoever hears these sayings of Mine and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his home on the rock; and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock. But everyone who hears these sayings of Mine, and does not do them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand; and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, and it fell. And great was its fall.” Matthew 7: 24-29

**** Darrell Ginther and his younger brother Lorin, their father killed in a recent plane crash, showed great concern for Grandpa Ginther’s soul, pleading that he accept Christ into his heart lest he go to Hell. John Ginther, who always evidenced a love for children, then prayed the Sinner’s Prayer and became a child of God himself.

# Concerning Alfred Stadem and the two grandsons leading Grandpa Ginther to the Lord : “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation...” Isaiah 52:7

@ “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me, I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.” --”Amazing Grace” by John Newton