Throughout the week not a thought was given
Of the One who died and then was risen
So it was no surprise when Sunday came
That this day would be about the same.
A hectic morning, rushing to and fro
Hurry up! To church we must go!
Where’s the Bible, it hasn’t been seen all week.
Not once have we read of Christ so meek.
Nor prayed to God or our sins confessed
Yet on to church, we want to be blessed!
Beautiful songs rang with words so true
But the meanings of them no one knew
A few words spoken, empty prayers said
Mere ritual from hearts that were dead
The God of Heaven saw no contrition
Looking down only man’s tradition.
So He search below to see if He could find
A people who loved with heart, soul, and mind
Those who seek Him every single day
Who feast on His Word and faithfully pray
One day a week, worship is not done
But daily from rising to setting sun
Then on Sunday, fellowship sweet
With brothers and sisters they will meet
With one accord praise rise to the sky
In thanksgiving worshipping Him on High.
True confessions made from deep within
The cleansing and purifying of their sins.
Fervent prayers bringing fire from above
So encompassing and deep is His great love.
Next Sunday, they looked forward with glee
For no other place they would rather be.