If I didn’t know He’s there
in the bread and wine
I see and taste
I’d be a Quaker in a pew
not at Mass this morning
soaked from the driving rain
or I’d be a Jew at the Wall
bowing, praying, waiting.
The Amish work too hard
and I can’t do the Pentecostal hop.
Thank God He’s risen from the dead
and there for me at every Mass.
Otherwise I’d be looking too
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem