My Choice

By: Missionary and martyr Bill McChesney

I want my breakfast served at eight

With ham and eggs upon the plate.

A well-broiled steak I’ll eat it on

And dine again when day is done.

I want an ultramodern home

And in each room a telephone;

Soft carpets, too, upon the floor

And pretty drapes to grace the doors.

A cozy place of lovely things,

Like easy chairs with inner springs,

And then, I’ll get a nice T.V.

– Of course, I’m careful what I see.

I want my wardrobe, too, to be

Of neatest, finest quality,

With latest style in suit and vest.

Why should not Christians have the best?

But then the Master I can hear

In no uncertain voice, so clear:

“I bid you come and follow Me,

The lowly Man of Galilee.”

“Birds of the air have made their nest

And foxes in their holes find rest,

But I can offer you no bed;

No place have I to lay my head.”

In shame I hung my head and cried,

How could I spurn the Crucified?

Could I forget the way He went,

The sleepless nights in prayer He spent?

For forty days without a bite,

Alone He fasted day and night;

Despised, rejected – on He went,

and did not stop till veil He rent!

A man of sorrows and of grief

No earthly friend to bring relief;

“Smitten of God,” the prophet said

Mocked, beaten, bruised, His blood ran red.

If He be God, and died for me,

No sacrifice too great can be

For me; a mortal man, to make;

I’ll do it all for Jesus’ sake.

Yes, I will tread the path He trod,

No other way will please my God,

So, henceforth, this my choice shall be,

My choice for all eternity.

Published by Gabriela Yareliz

Gabriela is a writer, editor and attorney. She loves the art of storytelling, and she is based in NYC.

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