Once again it was another Saturday afternoon.
I saw you go out to the streets.
Not to play, eat, or shop,
But to go out and preach.

You had tracts ready to pass out.
You had a Bible grasped in your hand.
I even saw the sign that said
'Ye must be born again.'

Many people drove by and saw you.
A few cars even listened and stopped.
But both of us well know
That most just laughed and mocked.

I remember the Saturdays when it poured rained.
I could see you were shaking and cold.
But you still went out like normal,
Preaching the gospel loud and bold.

I recall the Saturdays that were extremely hot.
I knew you were tired and weak.
But don't think I didn't notice
That you didn't quit or leave.

Well, you never saw any results.
And I know you're wondering if it was all worth it....
My son, here's that reward I promised you,
My good and faithful servant.

There's also a multitude here
That on earth you never got to meet.
They just wanted to say 'Thank you,'
Because you never quit preaching on the street.