A minister's lament

A MINISTER'S LAMENT
I used to call in people's homes, to talk with them and pray but now I've no time left to call; I have to be away Attending meetings here and there, as loyal preachers must;How else can one keep up to date, when programs are discussed?
The phone bell rang the other day. A tearful voice said, "Please, could you find time to see my dad? He's sick and ill at ease."I could not call that afternoon. I had a conference on,where specialists in pastoral work discussed things pro and con.
The next day proved too late to call. The poor old man was dead. His folks were peeved and sent for Reverend Doctor Brown instead;(Though why they'd turn to him in need I cannot comprehend;No conference on pastoral work he ever did attend.)
My youth work here has all but died, though Doctor Brown's is fair;For while I run to institutes, my young folks worship there.You'd think my church would boom and grow; but strange to say 'tis not;For while I go to conferences, my church work goes to pot.
They stress evangelistic work, which every church should do;They plan a lot of institutes to take our deacons to. These "New Life" conferences tell us how lost souls from sin to pry; They only trouble is that now we've no time left to try.
Perhaps we've made a big mistake, as some profess to see. Perhaps most church work has become a vast bureaucracy. Perhaps our time would best be spent among the needy mob. Perhaps God's kingdom profits most by staying on the job.
Author unknown


Be blessed,
iggy