Lord, they're in our hands tonight, Yours and mine.
Those "folks" who keep the peace and fight the crime.
They're men with wives and women with husbands and families, and feelings too.
They give themselves for our protection, these "folks" in blue.
I know my part in this is crucial too.
I must inform those "folks" in blue.
When trouble strikes, and where.
And send them quickley, no time to spare.
I cannot see the scene from where I sit.
My eyes and ears scan the console, brightly lit.
I must wait in blind suspense to hear each "Ten-Four".
As they let me know they have survived one time more.
I know a part of them that few others see-
Their eyes reflecting scenes depicting how cruel life can really be.
A battered child, a sensless wreck, or a murderer set free,
A brother in arms shot down, never more to be.
Ill make coffee, and keep it fresh and strong,
They'll stop by for a cup or two, but not for long.
Another call, a plea, or just a happenstance.
Duty will beckon, "Come...time to take another chance".
I'll answer the phone and questions too.
And dig out the stats and records they ask me to.
Ill type the reports, and of course, joke with them some.
Ill even put off that reporter who calls 9-1-1.
Let me, Lord, speak calm and clear.
To those out there while Im in here.
I'm their link, and they are mine.
In this partnership of fighting crime.
It seems to me that we're all a team.
They, You and me, I mean.
I'll do my best, and they will too,
But, still Lord, we need you to see us though.
AMEN
Author Unknown
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