I came to hear the preacher man
-Though his voice has long been stilled;
His tattered Bible--long since dust
His pews no longer filled...
I came to ask the preacher man
For guidance on my search;
The quest that lead to where he rests
Near a tiny Southern church...
I feel his ghostly presence there
Near his tombstone where I pray;
I came to see the preacher man
Though he sleeps beneath red clay...
I came to tell the preacher man
( as another century closes)
How proud I'll be to tell my son
'Bout the preacher man named Moses.

-Robert Westberry

 This poem about Moses was composed by Robert Westberry, son of Hazel Eileen Westberry, they being decendants of Josiah. Robert has given his permission to post it. He has my grateful thanks as I'm sure he has the readers.