The Reverend
Trod along—walk on—these trails are trials,
Thankful, faithful—for manna, for quails.
The books of law, of grace, of hymns,
Carried onward with praise like the seraphim’s.
Marching beyond where roads cease to lead,
Joy his pillow, praise the feast, souls to feed.
With a triumphant will—preach on! Hope is the sum
of decades endured—unwavering—a day will come.
Man enough to be man—humble to be of God,
In richer, in poorer, when all comes to naught.
Yet never forsaken—he sings songs of victory,
Held in the favor of the God of eternity.
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