The World's Fool

To My Dear Friend Randy Booth

On the Occasion of his 60^th Birthday

By Virgil Hurt

The World’s Fool

He’s old, they say, and now tis true

For sixty years has earned this due,

A hoary head with the hair that’s left.

Grey hairs on head and beard and chest.

These hairs add up to quite a few

God can number them all, can you?

Each grey tint, each greyish hue

Was got through living true.

Wisdom here in wrinkled face.

Foolishness but seldom found.

This man whose life reveals grace

With words as simple as profound.

He shared these words with listening ears,

With old as well as tender years.

And found the words received.

Grace sent, wisdom conceived.

When betwixt two good choices

Or when stuck amidst competing voices

Pastor Booth reveals the better choice

Or tells which one the truest voice.

Of wisdom’s counsel he is full.

As to preaching, a faithful bull.

And though he is the world’s fool,

In the hands of God, a mighty tool.

I am blessed to call Randy, friend.

But he’s more than that in the end.

He is rudder, mast and main.

Who does a friend in storm sustain.

A vessel hardened by the wind

And softened by the churning wave.

Who has learned Paul’s all things to men,

And thus, grace to men he gave.

Sixty’s not that old as some men count.

If they have drunk from Youth’s Fount.

But if the Lord should give him ten years more.

Or twenty, even, to attain four score.

The years will be too few for me.

I’ll be sad to see him go.

He has meant that much to me.

A man a man is proud to know.

So, to God, and to these friends, I commend

This man of sixty years.

This greeting and toast I send,

For each score, three cheers!