The Seasoned Missionary

He sits under the trees of the garden, As unto the voice of his maker he hearkens, A pillar of light is he as the world darkens, Declaring the gospel's true pattern, Humbled,he stands in the courts of his accusers, Smiling at the fowl word of his criticizers, As he diligently speaks the searched scriptures, Stone hearts, soft he renders, The joy of a saved soul keeps him going, As pure desire keeps strength flowing, Salvation is his aim as he is daily sowing, For in the vineyard new souls keep growing, Full is his heart's joy, Working relentlessly with the speed of a child's toy, Walking steadfast in temptations toil, As he returns with companionship of the spirit's coil,