The Pastor

The pastor is a man at best;

Prone to sin, and oft distressed.

Juggling tasks of wider scope;

Strength from God- his only hope.


The pastor leads his precious flock;

Scripture’s treasures to unlock.

Often not from wealthy stock;

Sermons governed by the clock.


The pastor has a lonely trade;

Overworked and underpaid.

Church expectations when they hire-

Found alone in the Messiah.


The pastor knows a deeper pain;

The burdens are a constant strain.

A shepherd, leader, mentor, mate;

A godly life to demonstrate.


The pastor has a family too-

A wife to lead in love that’s true.

Called to manage household well;

Through times of ease or troubled spell.


The pastor must discern what’s right;

Whilst guarding soul with gospel light.

In ceaseless battle he does fight;

The Celestial City within sight.


The pastor is engaged in prayer;

Sunday’s sermon to prepare.

Distracted time from reading chair;

The needs of others everywhere.


The pastor will be judged one day-

His life, the church, and every way.

Before the Lord He’ll give account;

This weighty truth- do not discount!


The pastor can dejected be;

Betrayed and blamed unlawfully.

In grace and love he must respond;

The faults and sin he looks beyond.


The pastor has such little rest;

Personal struggles oft suppressed.

Holidays and time aside;

By circumstances are denied.


The pastor loves you very much;

And does his best to stay in touch.

He walks with you through grief and mirth;

He has the hardest job on earth!


By Daniel Kriss, June 12, 2018

(Meditations on the Ministry)


The Preacher’s Privilege


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.



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.



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)

Contemplating the many moods, tones, and scenes surrounding the preacher’s study of God’s Word.