So many empty seats I see,
Is it because it rained last night?
And we woke up to a chilly morning?
So that you couldn’t take a shower,
Or even leave your bed?
For fear of shiver and shaking-
Of goosebumps and standing hairs.
So your only option was to stay in bed-
“Who wants to get out there, catch a cold?”
Your insincere inquiry-sad.
Let’s shed some light here-
With no intention of weighing you down,
With guilt, or cause your knees to tremble.
Let’s flashback for a while, shall we?
Six days you shall labour and do all your work,
But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God,
On it, you, you, you shall do no work-
Sunday service ain’t a day long.
The saviour longs for communion with you,
A fellowship with the sheep of His flock.
Your list of week-long thanksgiving awaits you,
If He calls you to His house, His presence,
His temple and His dwelling place,
You’re his child, oblige, hasten to his call;
And don’t forget to bring a gift,
He gave His son for you,
A gift so priceless ,we can’t repay
All we can is, gratitude portray.
So next time the devil holds you down,
Rather, pins you like a specimen on a board,
Free yourself and jump off bed
You can’t afford to miss another one,
Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.
Oh how I love Sunday service!