Aug. 14, 2015

The American Red Cross

(A Tribute)

Blessed are the hands that give—
Helping weary souls to live
And face the challenge of each day,
With courage to guide the way.

A security blanket, warm bed,
Shelter, and morsel of bread—
Your kind boughs, far and wide,
Give the needy a place to hide.

True as charged to the alarm,
Gathering pieces after the storm,
Your noble goal for each day
Is that the destitute find their way.

You’ve sacrificed on a whim—
Even risking life and limb.
Near or far—no task too great
To aid the wounded in their fate.

A healing balm to soothe the pain.
Reconnecting kith and kin.
Poised to do what must be done,
Your zeal is for the hurting one.

A sacred emblem, humbly borne—
Willingly and proudly worn—
The crimson cross reminds of Christ
And typifies the ultimate price.


Walterrean Salley