My Sunday Morning

My Sunday Morning

I wake up Sunday mornings, sometimes don’t feel at my best,
A strip wash in the bathroom, and then slowly I get dressed.
I take my fresh fruit from the fridge, and place it in a bowl,
I give my thanks to our good Lord, who nourishes my soul.

My mobile rings, It’s my good friend, I get up from my perch,
He asks me if I am OK, and want to go to Church.
I make my way up to the hall of the house which is my home,
And realise that I’ve forgotten, to give my hair a comb.

I take my spare comb from my bag, and tidy up my hair,
Suddenly to realise, my friends car’s waiting there.
So off to Church we travel, full of anticipation,
To Hope Church up past Marshalls yard, quite near the railway station.

There’s always such a greeting as we enter the Church door,
With hugs from some and kisses too, but handshakes even more.
We get ourselves free coffee ( but they also serve up tea ),
Then talk with several lovely folk, the fellowship is free.

We enter the first service, where we take the bread and wine,
With prayer and supplication, (and the honour Lord is mine).
This is a short first service but so often we will pray,
That someone who might need Him, might find our Lord today.

We have another beverage, in the half hour in between,
And then to second service, where more good folk are seen.
Praise and worship are always great, in fact second to none,
The word which might be serious, will have some added fun.

Our Pastor is a young man, quite dynamic on the day,
Can feed words from the Bible, in a clear and concise way.
Unpacks the ‘Word’ in such a way, that we all understand,
Gives us often food for thought, that we can take in hand.

His wife a lovely lady, who has her part to play,
Is not afraid to give her all, in a very Godly way.
She gets involved in many things that happen there at ‘Hope’
In all eventualities, she’ll be someone who’ll cope.

There are lovely folk attend our Church, I cannot name them all,
The building filled with joy and peace and love above it all.
That love that comes across so strong, it never rides roughshod,
A love that’s pure and gentle that was given us by God.

Michael J Hill © June 2019