It was a poem that my late grandmother used to recite to me and it had such a great message in it. i would like to pass this on to my kids so if you know it please, a title, poet,or the verse its self would be great;
a crippled boy lived on a mountain side with his mother, they were very bpoor and he felt a burden on his poorly mother. he would cry out 'what use am I " and his mother would reply " god has a plan for every man and he has one for you" One night he heard a voice that awoke him. it called him out of his straw bed and to a warning fire where " no century stands and he saw two figures in the shadows " he took the match in eager hands.. " they fired one shot be fore they left. when the folks gathered to see who had lit the fire and saved them they found the bleeding boy, they carried the dying son home to his mother who was distraught and the boy said " dont cry mother, god has a plan for every man and this was his for me

I know it as a story
.
God has a Plan

In the 18th century, there lived in one of the villages on the Scottish highlands , a small boy who was crippled in one leg and couldn't walk. He would then always sit outside and watch the other children run and play. Sometimes he would cry and ask his mother, Mom, why can't I run, play and kick a ball like the other children? I'm useless to mankind! Look at me!"

His mother, being very loving and caring, would then always put her arm around her son and say, "My son, God has a plan for every man, and he has one for you!!These word kept with the boy , everytime he felt miserable and weak, he would think of his mother's word, My son, God has a plan for every man, and He has one for you!"

Now it happened that England and Scotland were at war at that time, and in some place at every village there would be an enormos pile of wood. This served as a waring signal to the rest of the village. So whenever somebody saw the enemy approaching they would run to the pile and set it a ablaze so that the rest of the village might be aware of the danger as well.

And so it happened that on this day while the little boy was around, he saw the enemy approaching over the horizon, and with great difficulty, he dragged himself to the pile of wood . With even more trouble he set it alight, but the enemy saw him, Instantly a shot was fried and he was hit, but the enemy fled!

Quickly the crowds gathered, but on arrival the boy's mother was devastated as she knelt by her dying childs body. As the crowds gathered around them in silence, the crying mother asked, "My son, why on earth did you do this? Look what happened to you!

With this the boy answered, "Mother, you always told me, God has a plan for every man.' And with these words he died.

Through the efforts of many, I hav almost put the poem togeather. How ever it is not quite right and I still don't know the Author

if you post a sentence or two, I can try to check some old magazines ...

Does anyone know the words to this poem "Cripple Boy" please.

My mother who died fifteen years ago at the age of aged 84 used to recite this poem in the local Eisteddfod and recited it to us as children. It always made us cry. As you can see there are a lot of gaps where the document was damaged. I hope the parts you can read will bring back fond memories. Best Wishes Maldwyn.

Hi All

We finally managed to record my 98 yr old mother-in-law reciting the poem this weekend.

Tried to copy it as best we can - obviously it might vary from place to place but here goes...



THE CRIPPLE BOY
There stood a lonely cottage once upon a mountain side
and higher still above it rose the summits in their pride
A village in the valley lay,but that was far below
Whence all except the wild goat came weary stepped and slow.

Now a widow owned that lowly hut ,she had one only joy,
Alas her care and sorrow too ,for he was a crippled boy
He could not climb the mountain path,He could not run and play.
He could not earn the daily bread, for which his mother toiled all day.

Oh mother he would sometimes say,why has god made me so
What use am I,what work is mine,and then the tears would flow
Nay nay my child have patience still,be sure the words are true.
God has a plan for every man ,and he has one for you.

Now the sound of war was swelling then around that fair free land.
But her sons had sworn that on her soil no foeman foot should stand.
The cripple slept,at midnight he woke he knew not why
But a secret impulse led him forth beneath the starry sky.

Then led him up he knew not where until at last he stood.
Beside the pile, the signal pile of wood.
there was no sentry at his post,the place was dark and still.
Hush Hark see those stealthy men,just creeping round the hill.

Now crippled boy there's work for you,your mothers words are true.
God has a plan for every man and this is his for you.
He seized a match in either hand,he had no thought of fear.
One moment and the flames burst forth,they saw them far and near.

They saw it too,those baffled foe's,they knew their chance was ore.
One shot they fired and back they went,down to their camp once more.
But where was he, the feeble child ,so meek and yet so brave.
So mean and yet so honored thus,his native vale to save.

Alas that shot had stretched him low,and on the grass he lay.
With his dauntless heart rejoicing,while his life's blood ebb's away.
They bore him to his home, at last there was triumph in his eye
Oh mother do not weep for me,for I am happy thus to die.

I could not ask for longer life,For I have lived to see.
God has a plan for every man,and he had one for me.




Hope that's interesting for everyone?

Well done, Mr Crossland - and especial thanks to your mother-in-law. It's a lovely poem - it has a Victorian flavour - they were very fond of romantic historical-based ballad; it might be about a border raid, rather than war between Scotland and England - they happened very frequently in both directions even when there was no official war between the two countries. Whether it's based on a real incident or just apocraphal, we're very grateful to you for posting it.

My mother used to recite this poem to us when we were little children. My mother had the original poem from a page in a book, but over the years bits have fallen away leaving just parts. This is authentic. So combined with Mr Crossland's kind submission, you should get quite near to the original. All the best Maldwyn

THE LITTLE CRIPPLE BOY

......................................................................................upon a mountain side
...............................................................................the summits in their pride;
.............................................................................ay, but that was far below,
..............................except the wild goat came with weary step and slow.

........................................owned that lonely hut; she had one only joy-
.............................................care and sorrow too-but was a cripple boy;
.......................not climb the mountain paths, he could not run nor play
.................................the daily bread for which his mother toiled all day.
.........................he would sometimes say, “why has God made me so ?
......................n I? what work is mine? and then the tears would flow,
...............my child, have patience still; be sure the words are true,
.................‘God has a plan for every man,’ and he has one for you.”

...............................war was swelling then around that fair, free land;
............had sworn that on her soil, no foeman’s foot should stand;
...............each height a sentry stood, with keen, unwearying eyes,
The watch-fire’s blaze to kindle, should enemies surprise

The cripple slept at midnight hour, but woke he knew not why-
A secret impulse called him forth beneath the starry sky;
Then led him up he knew not where, until at last he stood
Upon the height beside the pile, the signal-pile of wood.

There was no sentry at his post, the place was lone and still;-
Hush! Hark!-see, see those stealthy men just creeping round the hill!
Now, cripple boy, there’s work for you; your mother’ words are true-
“God has a plan for every man,” and this is His for you.

He seized the match with eager hand-he had no thought of fear:
One moment, and the flame burst forth-they saw it far and near;
They saw it, too, those baffled foes-they knew their chance was o’er;
One shot they fired, and down they went back to their camp once more.

And where was he, the feeble child, so weak and yet so brave-
So mean, and yet so honoured thus his native vale to save?
Alas! that shot had stretched him low, and on the grass he lay,
With his dauntless heart rejoicing while his life’s blood ebbed away.

They bore him to his home at length; there was triumph in his eye:
“O mother, do not weep for me; I’m happy thus to die.
I could not ask for longer life; for I have lived to see,
‘God has a plan for every man, and He had one for me.”