A preacher told this story
In my hearing long ago:
About little Barefoot Buford,
To church he'd always go.
They had a big revival
Got the best man they could find;
A most impressive speaker
The educated kind.
They swept and scrubbed the building,
And worked with all their might;
They dusted off the song books,
And made things look just right.
They handed out the pamphlets
And knocked on every door;
They put up great big posters
In every shop and store.
They invited all their neighbors
And brought the kinfolk, too.
To hear this brand new preacher
Who would tell them what to do.
They put him in the nicest room;
They fixed the fancy food!
They used their finest china,
And planned to feed him good!
Well, he preached his greatest sermons;
The singing was divine;
The house was overflowing;
And the weather turned out fine!
But the meeting was now closing
And not a soul had come;
The people sat and wondered
Where had their plans gone wrong?
Then the crowd was startled
By a movement in the aisle--
'Twas little Barefoot Buford
With his shy and timid smile.
Some said, when it was over,
It was a disappointing week;
There was only Barefoot Buford,
With dust upon his feet!
They'd wasted time and money;
Their work was all in vain,
'Cause little Barefoot Buford
Seemed to be their only gain.
But the years have gone by swiftly,
And the tale is told today
That hundreds have been converted
By Buford, so they say.
He became a gospel preacher,
And spreads the Word with joy,
Old timers still remember
That little barefoot boy.
We often hear about him,
What brother Buford's done,
And the folks from that meeting
Are proud he's a native son!
So, when the seed is planted,
The yield we cannot know,
Just like little Barefoot Buford
In that meeting long ago!