Where are all the heavenly men
who read the Word and say "Amen"
whose eyes are focused on the prize
whose minds are planted above the skies
whose feet tread soft upon this earth
whose laughter rings with heavenly mirth?
He stands above the dirt and grime
and refuses to utter the words "That's mine."
He cries aloud with trembling voice,
"Come now sinners, make your choice.
The glory is God's and God's alone
The earth is the Lord's, it's not our home."
The Word is his bread; prayer is his breath.
Nothing can stop him, not even death.
Oh heavenly man, should you be still,
do not be silent, though they may kill.
God is still searching, oh come and be found.
Then lie down low with face to the ground.
By strength, love, and wisdom, God alone supplies,
with wings like an eagle, you'll soar to the skies.
Oh heavenly man, commissioned by God
who seeks not his own gold, comfort, or laud.
Stand and be seen by those of the dust
though their teeth may grind, be holy and just.
Live out your calling, preach by the Word
till all you have known have seen and have heard.
The choice is theirs, may they choose not the wrong,
but you will soon join with the heavenly throng.
And when you see Jesus, your joy and your prize,
He'll say, "Well done. Come join the heavenly skies."