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Beside Restful Waters

LITTLE DRUMMER BOY Rev. Neil Zinthefer, 1979 A long time ago in a faraway land Live a poor little boy with a withered right hand. He was a sad little boy who cried ev’ry day Because other children never asked him to play. Because of his hand, he couldn’t play ball. He just couldn’t catch, he’d miss one and all. His father felt sorry for his poor little son, But he was too poor to have anything done. Then one day a stranger just happened to come, Carrying a knapsack and a tiny tin drum. He was hungry and weary and needed a rest. The poor little fam’ly welcomed him as their guest. They shared with him the little food that they had. And, while he was eating, he noticed how sad The poor little boy just happened to be. He said, “Little boy, come sit on my knee And tell me the tale of why you’re so blue, And I’ll see if there’s anything that I can do. Of how his right hand never allowed him to play The games that other children all would join in. He never was picked, cause he never could win. The stranger told the boy to never forget That God makes no mistakes, so never regret The way you are made. Just learn to find out The talents you have, by looking about To see what is special, so special that you Are the only on in the world who can do. He then told the boy to come And give his withered hand and thumb A chance to hold the stick, and thrum A couple of beats on the tiny tin drum. The boy gave a try, and to his great surprise, Instead of a noise, a beat did arise That filled the air with the most pleasant sound. At last the poor boy knew he had found His most special talent. And he turned around To thank the stranger in words most profound. But before he could speak, the stranger did say Remember this lesson long after today. Practice this talent and learn to play For this is the way you are meant to pray, The best gift that you can give God above, Is to use this gift as a sign of your love. From that day on the boy was not sad He never worried or thought it was bad That he couldn’t play as others could play. Instead he would practice his drum ev’ry day. He sounded so good that after a while The kids dropped their bats and balls in a pile And sat down at his feet, And listened intent at the sound of his beat. One frosty ev’ning, a rather dark night, The boy looked up and saw a great light. And a voice from the light said, “Listen to me, This night in a stable down the road you will see A child so poor, he hasn’t a toy, That you must go and play for the boy”. The poor little boy heard the words in his mind Of that stranger who had come and had been so kind; “The best gift that you can give God above Is to use this gift as a sign of your love”. So the boy took his drum and his little drum stick And walked down the dark road, happy and quick. And he came to a stable, as the voice had said, And through the door he poked his head, And saw inside a tiny child Laying on hay in a manger piled. And around this crib was a circle of men Whose faces were coarse and weather beaten. They were giving the child and its mother so fair The finest of lambs that they shephered’d round there. The poor little boy drew back from the door. How he wished that he could be giving much more. Then a man named Joseph came up to the boy And said how the child would surely enjoy The sound of the drum that the boy brought along; “Play for my child a most beautiful song”. The poor little boy looked over to see If the most gentle mother would also agree. She nodded. She’d be happy to hear The gift that he brought to her baby so dear. The boy started beating upon that tin drum. His withered hand and his withered thumb Made music so sweet that the baby smiled. And the animals there kept time with the child. And the little boy knew as he stood there that night, And looked at the child and saw his delight, That he had given the best that he could, For he gave himself, and God understood.

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