If everyone could sing,
like the birds at break of day.
Who then would brush the carpet
or sweep the dust away?
Who'd tidy up the books at night
or wipe the dishes dry,
If everyone sat singing,
as the days went swiftly by
It’s great, to sing God's praises,
in this we all agree;
it's wonderful to tell of Him,
Who died for you and me.
But those who dust the organ seat,
without one thought of pay,
Worship... Jesus..Saviour
By things they do, not say.
And God.......
The God who cares and listens,
whose watching eye surveys,
observes those acts of service
accepting them as praise
So, if our gift for service
seems small within its span.
The preciousness to Jesus, is,
DOING WHAT WE CAN. .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem