NOTE: There is another, disgustingly works-righteous and sub-Christian version of this parody out there. Stick to this one, composed by a Lutheran pastor of unimpeachable orthodoxy- one of my college theology professors at Concordia, River Forest. Accept no substitutes!
One night I had a wondrous dream,
One set of footprints there was seen;
Saw footprints of my Lord galore,
But mine were not along the shore.
But then did stranger prints appear.
I asked the Lord, "What have we here?
Those prints are large and round and neat,
But Lord, they are too big for feet."
"My child," said He in somber tone,
"My footprints do you see alone
Where you My promise did believe,
And victories you did receive.
"But when you struggled in My arm,
To live out your own righteous charm,
In your own pow'r you sought to strut,
Well, there I dropped you on your butt.
"As Christian daughter, Christian son,
'Tis true you have a race to run.
That race is only truly won,
When in My arms the work is done.
"When times do come to rise and fight,
To risk the loss, to do the right,
On Christ's strong arms you take your stand,
Or, leave your buttprints in the sand."
HT: Aardvark Alley