by Linda Malcomb

There is a woman in our church
More precious could none be
She climbs the steps with shaking hands
And stops to talk with me.
Then once inside the people stop
To give a kiss or hug
To a frail and tiny woman
Whom God has blessed with love.
Her tiny hand holds on my arm
She slowly takes her place
You see a light shine from her eyes
It brightens up her face.
She listens as the preacher talks
And speaks of God above
She opens up her Bible
The Book so full of love.
Her tiny fingers move along
With each and every line
She bows her head and says a prayer
And then its almost time.
To say goodbye to all her friends
My-- how the time does fly
It seems like we just started
How quickly-- it goes by.
But first we have to sing a song
To praise our God above
For giving us another day
To live and laugh and love.
She need not open up a book
To sing a praise to Him
She knows each song through days gone by
She knows each and every Hymn.
Her tiny voice cannot be heard
As she sings her song of praise
But God above can hear her
I see it on her face.
She has a glow about her
The preacher sees it too
She must be one of God's angels
Sent to earth for me and you.
She clutches her Bible to her heart
And slowly starts back down
To spread the Word of God above
Within our little town.