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.

2000

Walterrean Salley