A Beggar meets The Prince
Steve Loggins
1/5/2020
A beggar met The Prince one day while
walking down the road,
The beggar’s clothes were soiled and
frayed from traveling with a load.
His back was bent with a heavy bag he’d
gathered on the way,
His garments were but filthy rags for he
had no place to stay.
He saw The Prince through rheumy eyes
caked with dust and grime,
He saw his clothes and fantasized, “How I
wish his robe was mine!”
The Prince put up a hand and stopped the
pauper on his way,
The beggar knelt, and then he dropped his
load that fateful day.
“What do you have”, The Prince then
asked, “in the heavy bag you carry?”
The poor man answered very fast, “Some
things I need to bury.”
“They are but things I value high, yet no
one else would care,
Some junk I picked up by and by; all
common things, not rare.”
“I would see your sack of things, perhaps
we’ll make a trade.”
“Oh no, your Majesty, I bring you nothing
goodly made.”
“I still would see your wares today, show
them, let me decide.”
The beggar bowed his head to say, “As you
insist, I’ll open wide…
My bag of things that have no cost, just
do not laugh at me,
For all that’s here, so much was lost, I
traded my security.”
The bag now opened, held three things; a
stone, a book, a rolled up scrap,
Three items held by a lot of strings
which the beggar had round them wrapped.
The stone was black and made so hard a
chisel could not mark,
A heart shaped form that couldn’t guard
the glow beneath the dark.
The book was plain and, O, so worn, its
pages often read,
But as the prince looked thereupon, the
beggar shook his head.
“My memories of bad and good, of joy and
sorrow too,
I did the best with what I could, it must
seem small to you.”
The rolled up scrap was then unfurled,
like a flag for a parade,
And on it was a painted world the man himself had made.
“I’ll take them all”, The Prince then
said, “but not with strings attached.”
The beggar shook his angry head and, in
his haste, he snatched
The scrip and book and stony heart from The
Noble Prince that day,
“I’ll not be having any part in giving my
things away!”
“You misunderstand My offer, son, you
have mistaken My intent,
I want your things to be re-done, but
only if you relent.”
“It all will be coming back today, just
shining, fresh, and new,
You have to trust in what I say, I’ll
give all things to you.”
The beggar, trembling, laid down his bag,
filled with broken things,
He asked The Prince about his rags, and
what value they might bring.
The Prince then gave a winsome smile and
took off his own coat
And laid it on the meager pile and on
that, placed a note
“I, The Prince, do hereby swear to all
who care to read
That this, my robe the beggar wears, is
his to meet his need.”
The beggar’s stunned, afraid to speak,
He’s scared to take the deal
Afraid his things were far too weak, such
a trade could not be real,
New clothes for old, new things for old;
no, The Prince could not be true,
To see some monstrous game unfold, some
trick the Gentry do
To mock the poor and feeble man, or catch
him in some trap,
It’s just a false and mischief plan, he’s
waiting for the jaws to snap.
He grabbed his threadbare rags and held,
and glowered at The Prince,
But then he spied a tear that trailed, to
him it made no sense,
Why should The Prince spill tears
today? Why would He care so much?
If the beggar went his lonesome way
bearing his load of such,
Wearing his rags and making his way in a
world of dark and gloom
Until he buried it all away in an
isolated tomb?
The beggar softened, looked again, and
saw the heartfelt pain
Of The Prince who offered up His hand,
who had nothing He could gain.
He op’ed his clutch and took out all, of
the things He’d hid away
He laid them down on a short stone wall,
it was there the three things lay
He cut the strings that bound them there,
and offered up his heart,
His world, his book, and then his cares,
his ragged clothing for a start.
The Prince then shed his robe of white,
and wore a crown of thorns,
And said, “My child, I take the fight, and
wear your rags...Now, be reborn!”
In an instant then, the beggar changed,
his melancholy ceased,
He found his world now rearranged, its
value now increased.
His heart was now a softer one, not hard
and black like stone,
Reflecting light from God’s own son, with
a loving and forgiving tone.
His memories of days gone by, now gave
him time to pause
Of how to fix things where they lie, or
reconcile his flaws
That hurt so many in his life, His want
to make it right,
His family, friends, so filled with
strife, His path now bathed in light.
To his amazement, now he wore; clothed
from head to toe,
The Prince’s robe and even more, he had a
little glow,
The scrap upon which his world was built,
now featured but a cross,
He found he’d lost his heavy guilt, his
world was not a loss,
For in its place, his Savior stood, who
gave His world to him,
A life not ruined but always good, a
world that never dims.
He found his path was altered now, he saw
the way so clear,
The kingdom of The Prince he vowed was
his celestial sphere.
The Prince had made the trade, you see;
and the beggar went away
With all the things He’d guaranteed the
pauper on that day.
He had new clothes of righteousness, The
Prince’s robe of white,
a fleshly heart of graciousness, a world
not dim, but bright.
But more he had, than he ever thought, a
new home was his too,
The palace of the king was bought with
blood for those made new.
The Prince took his hand and led him
then, o’er the straight and narrow road,
He thought of places he had been and
what The Prince now showed,
And realized the path was true, the
destination sure
His life was precious, this he knew, and
his Master’s way was pure.
Forgotten were his rags of old, forgotten
was his scrap,
He found his course was lined with gold
that plotted out his map
To reach The Father’s palace now, the
beggar begs no more,
For The Prince has demonstrated how a
beggar finds His door.
