How often we moan and bitterly complain
Never counting our blessing but always feeling down
We exaggerate our aches and build up our pain
It's easier to smile but we always wear a frown
We ask the question; why should this happen to me
When the least thing goes wrong we kick up a fuss
If we looked away from ourselves then maybe we would see
The people of this world who are worse of than us
I stood one day browsing through books in a shop
My feet were aching and my legs were sore
But then I thanked God that I could still walk and hop
For a legless man beside me could not do that anymore
I spoke to him sitting in his wheelchair
This smiling man I had happened to acquaint
How are you today I enquired of him there
He answered back with a smile; No complaint
His words to me how they had humbled
I felt ashamed to look him in the eye
As I thought of the moment before I had grumbled
And for the airing of my complaint I had no good reason why
I thought of Jesus and His agony and suffering
Of how many times He could have complained
As He went to the cross like a lamb for the offering
When his poor body was tortured and pained
No complaint from Him as they smote Him on the cheek
No complaint from Him as they whipped His back sore
No complaining words did my Saviour ever speak
No complaint from Him as my punishment He bore
When we go some day to the home of His Father
Where a mansion in the glory is built for each saint
When He looks at the blood bought ones Jesus did gather
He will welcome us all there with absolutely no complaint
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