The Ministry

By Robert Breaker III 

What a sacred calling it is,

Unto the ministry,

To work as Pastor, Evangelist,

Preacher, or Missionary.

But though it be the highest calling,

That there be on earth,

It also can most certainly,

Be a world of hurt!

Not only does one often find

The devil as his foe,

But both the world and the flesh

Seek to work him woe!

If this  t'were not the least of it,

There's one more foe around,

This be other Christians who

Attack him when he's down.

It seems those who he tries to reach

Are the ones that hate him most,

And in the blessed ministry,

His only friend's the Holy Ghost.

But the minister must stay strong

Quit he mustn't do,

Although the thought has crossed his mind,

More than a time or two!

On deaf ears his sermons fall,

Preaching hard against sin.

Yet, loudly he bellows forth,

"Ye must be born again!"

But carnal as the people are

They often go to sleep

And rather than shout, "Amen!"

They hardly say a peep.

Thus, often the minister

Feels like he's the only one,

Who cares about the spiritual

And what the Lord has done

But the minister must remember

His work is a labor of love,

For his is to do and die,

Serving God above.

For soon his coronation day,

Will come after all's been run,

And his reward will be in hearing

The Master's words: "Well done!"