O’er mountain and vale, past meadow and dale
‘Til we drove up our last pot-holed rise
Then down once again to a tropical glen
We ended at Paradise
By sheer force of will we trekked up our hill
Amusing some Mayans who lacked pity
We sloshed through the ruts and fell on our butts
And soiled our dignity
But at the end of the day compassion held sway
When the load from our caravan,
Each box and each pack were lugged on the back
Of a loving and hardworking Mayan
The Mayan Race has kept its face
Since the days of the ancient kings
Having cheekbones that rise and almond eyes
And exotic jaded things
On sanctified sod to the glory of God
A Nazarene church was conceived
Some twenty years past the foundation was cast
Carved from the forest primeval
Through miles of mud and occasional flood
Moved mountains of tiles and bricks
Each piece on a back or stowed in a pack
The sand and the concrete and sticks
In clinic we see, in ones and in threes
Folks seeking help with their ills
And healing is found as folks make their rounds
In prayer and compassion and pills
Albendazole for one and all
For parasites that abound
And vitamin chews in a futile ruse
To cure anemia by the pound
The senors and senoras, the children’s chorus
All blend to a pulsating din
And from a helper nearby ‘neath a loud baby’s cry
Hear the sound of a softly sung hymn
The mid morning sun brings a fire that’s wrung
Like a humid ubiquitous beast
The heat, when near choking by evening is broken
By a heavenly breeze from the east
Next morning brings dew, the kind Eden knew
That evolves to a thunderous rain
When mid day is past comes a torrential blast
‘Til the cisterns of heaven are drained
It’s VBS day with it’s songs and it’s play
That put the gospel in mind
Who among us can say what fruit will convey
In the lives of redeemed yet in time?
At the end of our days come worship and praise
With pulsing marimba and drum
Lend voice to the song and pray along
For the God that we worship is one!
‘Tis our seventieth team and the end of this dream
And we struggle with all that it means
We reflect on the past and sift what will last
From all of the patients we’ve seen
When the fire falls and burns up all
Our works of stubble and wood
The gold that remains from all of life’s pains
Are the works of compassion and good
“He liveth best who serveth best”
This is the wisdom of the wise
And this we confirm in our brief sojourn
In the land of Paradise
For loving and serving is life’s greatest quest
This, the Master’s repeated refrain
Thus, serving our brother… and serving our Savior
Are virtually one and the same
