LAWRENCE “MACK” HALL

We plan our lives, we think our thoughts 

We name the days, we name the child

We count the oughts, dismiss the naughts

We seek for peace, we fear the wild

We dare presume to sort our days

As if we were Creators too

To look upon our works and praise

That which we think is right and true

But Zechariah, his old face wan

Corrects us with:

“His name is John”