The beating drums declared a warring tribe
Of savage, painted people clutching spears,
Whose conflict bled the ground for many years,
But to the cause no elder would ascribe,
Too thirsty for the hate they did imbibe.
Now to this clan came Christian without fears,
The Bible’s words with which to fill their ears.
Though most defied, a few chose to subscribe;
In these he tilled and planted holy seed
Whose roots would grow without his hands in soil,
And so he left for larger fields in need,
To other lands where God would have him toil.
Returning when his light was growing dim,
He heard the drums beat out a gospel hymn.
Peter, I really liked this, particularly those last two lines. It really brought the poem to a wonderful, inspiring and very satisfying conclusion. Well done. With love, Deb
