This fellow I met over at the mission on some why-not night

    said he reckoned that the best way to live one’s life

    if you really wanted to get it right

    was to ask yourself what you thought good old Jesus would do

    if He happened to get caught up in the same situation as you.

I didn’t rightly know at the time but I said I might think on it a mite.

I let it rest ‘til about dark o’clock on still yet another night

    when I was cutting through this alley, one hand on my knife

    and the other holding my wallet real tight

    and I saw this fellow splayed out between me and the sidewalk.

    Sicker than a dog. Probably drunk. Head swaled up so he couldn’t talk.

And I could see that this poor soul was blocking me from the rest of my life.

Well, sir. I stopped and stared and suddenly I saw the light.

    By all that’s holy, I knew then how good-old Jesus would handle this strife.

    We’d hear his voice, so clear and bright

    “Rise, take up thy bed, my son, and go ye forth in grace with Him.”

    After all, Jesus would know it’s easier to cure the beggars than to move them,

And that there’s more than one way in heaven and earth to smite a blight.

I raised my hand and held it high, imploring a miracle for this twit.

    “Rise up you sot and be ye gone, cause Jesus has done said, ‘You’re not yet dead.’”

    But for all my piety and wit, this fellow moved not one bit.

    So I kicked the heathen upside the head. “Get out of the way,” I said.

    That did it. He came to, puked and crawled to one side. “Thank you, Jesus,” I prayed.

“You have shown me the way.” And on I went, blessed by the glory of holy writ.