The Night Before Sunday
By Rick Woodall
'Twas the night before Sunday, when all through the home,
Not a creature was planning, Sis was on the phone;
The Bible’s were packed under the bed so fair,
In hopes that they would forget they were there;
The children were playing on their video game,
While visions of high scores would give them more fame;
And Mom into her TV, and Dad we call Pap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
There was no use to set the alarm,
For, sleeping in, had such a charm.
When to the sky, they saw the flash, and
The trumpet sounded with oh, such a blast.
There He was, standing in the clouds,
And you could hear wing flapping sounds.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear?
Two large books that brought them fear.
Time was done, it happened so quick.
Then he pointed his finger and to Dad he did pick.
Get to the left, He shouted so loud,
“Get over there and don’t even frown.”
You had your choice and you had a chance.
You chose the world, with party and dance.
To the top of the clouds! To the top of the sky!
They watch him ascend, With a gleam in his eye !"
Things of the earth will be no more.
The ones on the right have opened the door.
There will be no more obstacles, tears or pain.
All that suffering lead to their gain.
And then, in a moment, I heard from the liar,
“Welcome to Hell and burning fire.”
As I drew in my head, and woke right up,
I knew that my dream got me out of a slump.
Come on Mom get me a shirt and a tie,
Get the Kids up, this dream doesn’t lie.
Dust off the Bible’s under the bed.
We won’t sleep in, it’s church services instead.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His disposition so merry!
Please hurry he said, please do not terry!
For if we get ready, don’t let the time pass,
We can even make it to Bible class.
So with his Bible under his arm, they hopped in the car,
And with smoke from the exhaust and a squeal of the tires,
You could hear him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
I’ll be planning for Sunday on Saturday night.
