One day, last of the week.
Rest we do, a Holy God to seek.
Our ways become not our own.
That day belongs to God and home.
Thoughts become a worship song.
Labors end, to hallow our wrongs.
Jesus went to the temple prayer.
The Apostles followed Jesus, in his cares.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great WONDERFUL poem FROM THE CLOUDS!