I can only give Sunday Lord, I'm working hard you see,
to keep the wolf from the door, and I need my colour T.V.
car and holidays abroad.
I can only give Sunday Lord, I'm busy planning my next move,
a bigger house, extra space to relax, improving my lifestyle.
Dreaming of that final day, judged upon my chosen way
I heard a voice from heaven say.
Did you help my precious son,
for He is there in everyone.
The old, weak, a hurting child,
you passed them by with embarrassed denial.
I asked you to love
I asked you to care
it isn't enough to give Sunday for prayer.
For blessed are the children devalued today,
the lost, lonely and those with "no say"
treasured lambs they are close to my throne,
What did you do on your journey home?
All that you value and all that you gain,
in a wink of an eye will be no more,
as on your life I close the door.
Talitha Hills
Copyright 2003
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