Just a Joe, my whit so slow and you could maybe fill a thimble with everything I know.  So far to go, by flight of crow, you can understand infinity by watching how slow I grow.  It is the street underneath my feet that keeps me from defeat, lain by the feat that counts me among the wheat.  I shan’t retreat nor venture from my seat, I shall repeat His Gospel til we meet.  For in that day will it matter anyway what I do or say unless it points the way to His broad throne where we shall never be alone, sea, sky and stone and reanimated bone.  So I will serve with every ounce of my paltry nerve, forgiven what I deserve, every deception, swerve and curve.  He loves me so, the saving Grace and redemption that I know, keeping me in tow, while the world goes to and fro, sowing seeds so they might grow, but turn His light down low and you’ll see I’m just a Joe.