In Mimousa the Small
In the land of Mimousa the small
A most serious problem arose,
And the chief was perplexed till he saw
That the church from each martyr’s blood grows.
For you see one great man from the tribe
Had found Christ and forgiveness of sin,
He had trusted the way of the Truth,
and faced death for his new peace within.
But the land of Mimousa the small
Had tradition which now interfered,
For they thought you must grant one’s last wish
Or the consequence ought to be feared.
So the man in the wisdom of God
When they asked his last wish made it this:
“Let me teach ten the things that I know,
And then hasten my entry to bliss.”
“But those ten that you teach,” they replied,
“Must be martyred as well, just like you.”
“Ah, but you must grant their final wish
To teach ten ere their moments are through.”
So it went for a time till the chief
Greatly vexed saw his futile attempts
Were not stopping but growing the church,
And he sought a solution or fix.
And at last he concluded that he
Must stop killing these saints or he’d find
In a very short matter of time
All the land would be taught by their kind.
Though the land of Mimousa the small
Is not found on the maps you might search,
Still the principle holds that the blood
Of the martyrs is seed of the church.
Christina Joy Hommes