The Ragged Man

He lay there in the alcove
In the shadow of St. Andrew’s bell
How long he had been there
No one could possibly tell.

Ragged and bedraggled
From his scarf to his unwashed feet
His hand reached out in silence
On the busy bustling street.

The churchgoers passed by him
On a mission to kneel and pray
Stepping over the ragged man
Without a word to say.

Springtime mist was falling
Like a thin and delicate veil
Upon the face of the man
Already cold and pale.

‘Can you spare a penny?’
He called, as they rushed by,
‘A shilling or a moment –
Just a moment of your time?’

But still the congrgation
Trampled, almost ran
To their Easter Service
And ignored the ragged man.

St Andrew’s bell struck midnight
And the door creaked closed
There fell an eerie silence
As the congregation rose.

And then they felt a shiver
And a ‘presence’ did befall
Which glowed from the stained glass window
Into the sacred hall.

A ragged man walked forward
The man whom no one knows
Then walked up to the altar
In his old and ragged clothes.

As he raised his hands up high
No way could he disguise
The marks from nails that had scarred his hands
And the sadness in his eye.

But the pain went even deeper
Than the cross he’d had to bear
Knowing that just outside the church
They didn’t see him there.

With tears of disappointment
He wiped his thorn-marked brow
Then turning to the ‘faithful’,
Asked them, ‘Can you see me now?’

Sheila Webb


Please read and inwardly digest. This is a truly inspirational poem, with a very powerful message

God Bless



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