Trading Places Poem by Sylvia E. Wilson

I tried to imagine how different it would be,
If I were the Pastor,
From about, eight to three!

I would rise in the morning,
Fall down on my knees,
and pray... 'Dear Heavenly Father,
Just Guide Me Lord, Please! '

Don't need any money; Don't want a big raise,
Just Guide Me, Dear Father,
Direct All of My Ways!

This path that I've taken is long, never ending,
The counseling, the preaching,
The praying,
and the befriending,

Not to mention the appointments,
That are Constantly Pending!

By Your Grace, I will serve You,
Each new day, and each new night,
Leading those from the darkness,
Into Your Blessed Light!

I have now come to realize,
That your place, as 'The Pastor, '
Is a privilege, and a blessing,
Granted, by 'The Master.'

You have answered, 'The Calling'
and are blessed, I can tell.
You have served Your Lord Faithfully,
And your Congregation Well!