Sunday

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.

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