Not every Sunday thundered storm and sin
A psalm could make the hardest pew seem soft
Peace like a golden dove flapped honeyed wings
A tawny angel dropped a shower of blessings
A psalm could make the hardest pew seem soft
Not every sermon walked on torn feet
A tawny angel dropped a shower of blessings
The Lord's face did not always wear a frown
Not every sermon walked on torn feet
The world upon its axle stopped and listened
The Lord's face did not always wear a frown
The preacher raised a black arm to the sky
The world upon its axle stopped and listened
Not every Sunday thundered storm and sin
The preacher raised a black arm to the sky
Peace like a golden dove flapped honeyed wings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem