Sitting with a Bible in his hand He thumbs the well -worn pages like before The evening young and he an aged man He seeks to understand his Maker more Sitting in the dark in frayed attire He feels the chill of winter coming in He throws another log into the fire And looks into his Bible once again He learned to love the pages as a boy And sought to keep his faith alive and strong And in the face of threats to rob his joy The years had somehow left him with a song A rough and shaky finger scans the lines And well he knows the old familiar words He thinks of all the times they've met his eyes It's still the goodest news he's ever heard