The Missionary

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Title:     The Missionary
Author: Herbert Edward Palmer [More Titles by Palmer]

(Freely adapted from a Foreign Tongue)

You speak of worlds with rainbow prospects vaulted.
But not for these the service that I hoard.
You know the sweet; but I--the pure, exalted:
My soul spreads wings to her exalted Lord.

My sphere of lowly service is more spacious
Than earthly masters and their tasks afford;
For gentle is my Lord, and very gracious:
I serve with willing hands my gracious Lord.

I know dark realms where no glad light is burning,
Where Life meets Death, and bows beneath his sword;
But yet I fear not; for He is discerning:
I lean upon my wise, discerning Lord.

And when I'm stripped of all, requited latest,
His kind "Well Done" my guerdon, my reward:
Though yours be richer, yet my Lord's the greatest.
I follow Him--the mightiest, greatest Lord.

[The end]
Herbert Edward Palmer's poem: Missionary

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