Grandson
Come walk with me my child
Put your little hand in mine.
I will tell you of your inheritance
That to you we leave behind.
The handle of your name was
Passed on to you with pride.
Take care, wear it proudly,
Let integrity be your guide.
You see, we kept it bright and shiny
No tarnish was allowed.
We gave it to your daddy
And he has made us proud.
Oh…it’s been through the firing pot
To make it purer still
Burning out the awful dross
So with love it could fill.
The handle reached its peak
With all that it could hold!
A prayer went up to heaven
O’ what joy when we were told!
In God’s storehouse of little babies,
With its numbers not a few,
He sent us straight from heaven
A very special little you!
And so, my precious little one
That is why you came:
To fill our hearts with all your love
And carry on our name.
Rachel McKane © 1994
© Design by Barbara Turner-Gerhart
Summer Camp
