| Junk Man January 17, 2001 Justene Martin |
My daddy was a junk man And it would make his day, To find a treasure in something Someone else had thrown away. From flea markets to garage sales, His eye was very keen, Sometime's the worse shape it's in More value it would mean. He'd spit and shine and polish it With tender loving care, Replace the broken pieces That were sometimes worse for wear. Then at last when it was finished He'd stand back and take a look, What someone else had cast aside Now a treasure in his book. Then he'd smile and tell the neighbors What a treasure he had found He was known as Mr. Fix-it man For miles and miles around. Now he's fixing things in heaven But his Father who is there Still looks for broken people And the treasured hidden there. He finds the worn out hearts That the world has cast aside And finds the hidden treasure That was buried deep inside. And with His hand He polishes, And with His tears He shines He never once forgets The purpose on His mind. Yes, my Father is a junk man He fixes broken hearts And even now He's fixing mine Replacing all the parts. And one day soon I'm hoping That all the world will see, A product of His handiwork A brand new shining ME! |