Sunday School

I’ve heard all about You.

I know the things you do.

They preached it from the pulpit

And way back in Sunday School.

How awesome You are…

Worlds exist at Your command

How powerful and righteous –

Life and Death are in Your hand.

Perfect judge of right and wrong,

Victorious reigning King.

Mighty Lord of Heaven and earth

Whose eyes miss not a thing.

The singers, they sang, “Holy! Holy!”

And the preacher pled, “Repent!”

And all of us, sick-hearted, broke-

Grew shame faced; learned to lament.

Oh God, it’s true – I should believe.

You’re who they say You are.

Still I long to find a place where Fear

No more my thoughts can mar.

A place where bruised reeds

Are not crushed.

A place where churning souls,

Sad cries are hushed.

Well, I’ve never seen this on a flannel board

Or heard it taught during VBS;

But when I picture Jesus, He holds me

Like a lamb close to His chest.

He never says I don’t belong or asks me

First to pass some test.

He simply, gently pulls me close and whispers,

“Come here, child.

Come find your rest..”


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