Missionaries

They heard a voice, they responded Though indistinctive the call, unclear their destination Waiting not for a signed correspondence They mobilized and departed to their destination Then arrived the challenges staring at their face The seas, the deserts there to cross Thirst, hunger and starvation, theirs to face Yet determined to bear their cross Lost in the wilderness, searching for the lost souls As week stretch into months and months expand into years Traveling miles without end because of their love for lost souls Yet they have no plan to retreat even after many years Not that they are fugitive, fugitives run away from home Not that they are vagabond, vagabonds have no home Not that they are wanderer, wanderers are far away from home They are pilgrims, like pilgrims they are heading home Suffering man's blatant inhumanity to man Undetered for they know they are on a mission The vision, on their face fiercely to man As in the manners of every deputation Trekking long miles of single-file roads Enduring crude moist heat and drenching rains The nuisance of mosquitoes and sand flies en road And myriad indigenous wild insects and pains Righteousness and morality prayerfully to seek Like humanitarians caring nothing for their own lives So long as they could preach the message, heal the sick And bring education and enlightenment to people's lives