A small voice calling

A small voice calling, calling, calling
across the Orient’s tropic seas,
carried upon the mystic breeze
that beckons me with the wavering trees:

The breakers roaring, roaring, roaring,
devouring slowly burnished sand
powered by an unseen hand
to reincarnate this promised land:

Again I hear it calling, calling,
from whence I cannot tell
with compass or with map - the swell
of th’ocean told me ’fore it fell:

I saw it falling, falling, falling
beneath yonder rocks
reflecting jewels from beyond the docks
of Singapore - elok:

And then I heard it calling, calling
in that moment from afar;
and in a wave I saw the star
of Bethlehem - sayang Yesus yang besar:

With it come a warning, warning
that I must go on
and fight his battles from
the rooftops ’til the end is won:

And so the calling, calling, calling
of the voice I hear again
across the water’s silent pain
as soft surf whispers wane.