God Must Love Nurses

The patience of Job, have these girls in white.
Pacing the halls all day and all night.

Taking the temps, and counting the pulse,
Calling the doctor if the hearttbeat is false.

Peddling pills and mopping up vomit.
Changing beds-someone couldn't hold it.

Carrying trays, spoon feeding some,
I wonder where all their strength comes from?

Answering call lights, comforting those
Whose fears are as great as their ills, I suppose.

Now there's baths and bedpans, and charts to mark.
Doctors to answer to, still there's a spark

Of light in their eyes and a smile on their face.
God must love nurses, for he filled them with grace.

Copyright Clara Scarberry