Fishermen

Peter, James, and John,
just to name a few;
Fishermen, already there,
who wait to welcome you.

Though nets may be their tackle,
A far cry from a reel,
They smelled each day the rich lake air,
And knew the wind by feel.

They met a Savior on the bank
and followed when he called.
They dropped and left their nets behind,
To fish for wayward souls.

You’ve followed the same Savior.
He bought you with His blood.
His Word has been the well-worn map
That brought you safely home.

Maston E. Jackson
©2022

In honor of Ed Cole