The Greatest Mission Trip
Every year in early summer
We board our faithful, church-type bus
To set off on another mission trip
With dreams of the fun that is to come.
But before we sit on our cushioned seats
And complain that the air's too cold,
Maybe we should stop to think
How the greatest mission trip did unfold.
The journey wasn't made on a trusty bus,
But on feet, blood-soaked and sore.
There was no trip to an amusement park,
Just a march to the place of the Skull.
He didn't use a hammer and nails
To build a bridge on this earthen sod,
But a hammer and nails were used on him
To bridge the gap between man and God.
Jesus lived and died to share God's love,
And we should do the same
For we'll rise like him at the appointed time
Forever more to reign.