What a missionary life,
standing in the cold morning,
distributing your flawed Word
to a hundred indifferent,
hell-bound children.
How many did you save today, Sir?
If even one, your work was enough.
But was there even one?
Go home, Sir;
I fear you'll catch your death
out here amongst us sinners.
If we need your God,
I'm sure we'll find Him -
He's everywhere after all, isn't He?
So go on home where it's not so cold,
throw those pamphlets out on your way -
that's where they always end up, anyway.
A prayer for you, Sir.

TMK 11/18/2004