This I Know


What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

But what was sin at nine or ten? Sin something only

grownups did. For Jesus, he loves the little children.

“Suffer them to come.” In other words, green light.



Come and sit by my side if you love me. And we did, love her that is. So we sat as she told the old, old story as if she’d been there and maybe she had been for all we knew for she was so very old and we were so very young and pale, pale like the boy Lord astounding the beards in the Temple. Don’t step on a crack or you’ll break the back door of your mother’s heart that she asked Jesus into last summer when the hair-sprayed evangelist came to town and kissed the souls of grownup girls and made them cry, cry, cry. Time after time he has waited for you, to see if you’re willing. Behold, he stands at the door. Knock, knock. Jesus loves me this I know.

Oh, precious is the flow.



For my pardon this I see. Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

But only outlaws prayed pardon from the hanging

judge of Fort Smith. So we chose to ride with fat bold

Rooster. In other words, one-eyed for an eye.



I shall miss your bright eyes and sweet smile. And we did when we bid her adieu, moved on to pastures greener filled with Buicks bigger. Men then taught our Sunday school hour for boys had to learn not to lust, for from lust we came and if not careful every mother’s son of us to lust we would return. They stressed when offense comes, cut it off, pluck it out. It only takes a spark in the deceitful heart. But there is no knowing what is in a boy’s heart, or craw. So we forgave their thin little minds for they knew not us, let alone themselves. We filled our hands and charged our ponies. We were a sight to see, baby sister. Pearls of great price, white as snow.

Oh, precious is the flow.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,317 other subscribers

Leave a Comment