I would not go, O Lord, across the sea
to preach Thy Word to foreigners unknown,
but how I reap now that which I have sown
because the nations all have come to me
to rob my house, my land, my future, free
to take of all which I have built and grown,
which are not mine, but Thine, for all I own
would be forsaken, had I gone for Thee.
Now earthly riches other nations steal,
yet I will preach Thy Gospel to the thieves;
and set before them drink and kneaded meal
out of my poverty, which thieving leaves;
and turn to set my hand to plow, and heal,
and bring of darkest harvest whitest sheaves.
~ by Michael Rew / Email: witness@psonnets.org
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Next Poem:
I Am a Child
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My Sacrifice Is Living
Subtopics: Topical Index
Farming and Gardening Poems
Harvest Poems
Healing Poems
Immigrant and Immigration Poems
Labor and Work Poems
Meal and Breaking Bread Poems
Missions, Missionary, and Evangelism Poems
Poverty and Poor Poems
Repentance Poems
Copyright 2008 by Michael Rew
All Rights Reserved to the Glory of God
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