Last Roundup

They are sometimes very hard to find,
As they're outside His Blessed Cote,
Once found you find there's every kind;
Space for all, under Jesus' coat.

Roundup gathering to Jesus,
Before, with Him we Sup,
His Blessings more than please us,
As our Praises, we keep up.

His, Holy Spirit Power,
Runs rife, throughout the land,
Like an Ever-blooming flower,
Convicts Repentant to his hand.

Missionary Roundup gathering,
Evangelizing, every Race,
Great Preaching, not my blathering,
Fills God's table, every place.

In countries, where they're starving,
To receive God's Holy Word,
Great strides the Spirit's carving,
With a Love-song, they've never heard.

Where Spirit, seems to be losing heart,
Is in our Western, Christian, World,
Too many pews see no new 'hinder-part,'
As our Revivals, are a 'Flag, Unfurled.'

At the rate, to Church, we're going,
And the rate our Third World comes,
Christian 'leadership,' we're blowing,
As we sit on our lazy thumbs.

So, all who hear, or see my rhyme,
Witness to those needing to change,
We do not have much more time,
To 'Roundup' lambs, for God's Home Range.

AMEN