Sunday morning’s silent
At least it is at dawn
Just a mere whisper
Or a small bird song
But later in the morning
In spots throughout the land
Sunday clears its throat
And things get out of hand
Then Sunday rings its bells
Beseeching one and all
That Sundays must be recognized
Beyond the chapel walls.
There’s singing, praying, preaching
And reading from the Word
Sometimes there is a message
Which really should be heard
And then at dusk come vespers
Rounding out the day
Once more we feast upon the Word
And kneel and think and pray
God in all his wisdom
set apart this day
The day of resurrection
When hope can truly say
The future is as bright
As God’s good guarantees
And so we must keep Sunday
The day that set us free.
August 14, 2022—– Dedicated to my Christy Girl on her birthday, whom I hope is singing up there in the heavenly choir just like we used to do at Centenary
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