A poem affectionately dedicated to the memory of Brother Bruce Morrison,

an American missionary and martyr of the new millennium.

 

Gone hast thou, dear brother Mo

Folding thy earthly tent

In such a painful haste

On February the third

Two thousand and one

In thy year of prime

 

Gone hast thou, dear brother Mo

Leaving six youngsters

And life companion of thine

All missionary sojourners

By the Yangtze River’s

City of Wuhan

 

Gone hast thou, dear brother Mo

Bidding not a farewell

With countenance so shine

To thy parents and friends

Dwelling yonder across

The Pilgrim's land

 

Gone hast thou, dear brother Mo

Survived by two nations

And six billion souls all

Still gravitated to

This sin-smitten

Lowly, lowly world

 

Gone hast thou, dear brother Mo

Called by thy Master

To live is to serve the Lord

In sweat and in toil

To die is to gain

Glory and reward

 

Gone hast thou, dear brother Mo

Resting in peace

Till the seventh trumpet

Screeching to gather

Saints of all ages

Before the Lamb's feet

 

(Original poem was composed on Feb. 5, 2001)