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Complaints As I was walking down the street,
I met a lady with no feet.
Because she had no feet to use,
She did not complain she had no shoes. Then as I walked further on,
I met a man who'd lost an arm.
He had no coat ... he had no sleeve,
I neither heard him cry nor grieve. In a few more steps, whom did I spy,
But a stumbling man with a blinded eye.
He could not walk his path alone,
I did not even hear him groan. Somewhere else along my walk,
I met a man who could not talk.
He could tell no one of his pain,
He did not grumble nor complain. Another block brought me quite near
To a man who could not hear.
He never once had heard a hymn,
But he kept his anguish closed within. In that same block, whom did I find ...
But some lost soul without a mind.
A lot of babble he did utter,
But no objection did he mutter. Not much further did I go,
When I saw an old man moving slow.
His hands were gnarled; his back was bent,
Not one complaint did I hear him vent. When my walk was nearly through,
I found myself approaching you.
You always say there's something wrong,
So, for that reason, hear this song. Aren't you aware how you've been blest?
Can't you see you've no distress?
Don't you know how whole you are?
See where you've been, and just how far? Can't you quiet your complaints?
Appreciate those men's restraints?
There, but for God's holy grace,
Could you be walking in their place.
--unknown
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