I thought the missionary life called out to me;
I thought that life was turning that way,
But when I feel upon my knee,
I knew not how to pray.
My lips would part,
But silence loomed.
And though I held it in my heart,
Nothing surely bloomed.
It’s as if that door was closed.
And left exposed,
I walked right on back,
And tried to get back on track.
I thought the missionary life called out to me,
But it wasn’t my road.
It took some time for me to see,
That I was made for a different mode.