My Choice

The following is a poem from "Smiling Bill" McChesney, an American missionary that left for the Congo in the early sixties. At that time, the Congo was a VERY dangerous place for a non-local to be. He died at the hands of an angry mob in 1964.
This is "My Choice"

I want my breakfast served at eight, with ham and eggs upon the plate;
A well-broiled steak I'll eat at one, and dine again when day is done.
I want an ultramodern home and in each room a telephone;
Soft carpets, too, upon the floors, 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 small TV- 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.