THE SCENE:

The antique desk is beckoning;

Old Saxon wood-fire is crackling;

A charm of magpies warbling;

Sounds and scenes converging.

Gum tree leaves are swaying;

Darkened sky is threatening;

The percolator is brewing;

Preacher’s mind awakening.

THE WORK

Sheepskin hide: a kneeling post;

Guidance from the Holy Ghost.

The lamp is lit, the quill is wet;

Heart engaged, and mind is set.

The gilded pages now are read;

With rays of light, the soul is fed.

Conviction falls like drops of rain;

Cleansing given from every stain.

Night about begins to fall;

Noise abates; birds’ final call.

The manuscript is now compiled;

Words and phrases wisely styled.

The paperwork is now complete;

Pow’r required from mercy seat.

Now deep into the fearsome night

The devil comes to pick a fight.

Sleep evades; The mind beset;

The weary heart tries not to fret.

Preacher strives in vain to rest;

Instead, through prayer, is truly blessed.

THE SUMMIT

Sunday morning comes at last!

The battle of the night has passed.

The time has come to pray and sing;

To preach, to lead in worshipping.

From peaceful scenes to stirring nights;

From spiritual slopes to lofty heights;

The long and lonesome pilgrimage;

This is the preachers privilege.

By Pastor Daniel Kriss (September 7, 2019)