It's not enough to attend church and pray every Sunday; you have to act.
quote by Abbe Pierre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
There's Many Still Caring
There's many still caring,
What they believe and hear.
Who says what about them.
And who to impress and how they live.
There's many still caring,
How they dress and appear.
And who's going to think what of them.
And what they have and what they give.
There's many still caring,
Where they go to pray.
And who sits in church with them.
And who is not there on Sunday.
And...
There's many still caring,
Once they prepare for bed.
If a neighbor is sleeping.
And who they know,
Is having sex instead.
And who is it with them in bed!
There's many still caring,
Where they go to pray.
And who sits in church with them.
And who is not there on Sunday.
And who they know,
Is having sex instead.
And who is it with them in bed!
And when they're done what's being said!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Pray
Each day we thank the good lord
for everything he gives us
from the birth of each new day,
to the young who enjoy a game to play.
The food on our table
that keeps our stomachs full,
to the love we are blessed with
within our chosen partner.
We pray each night to see another day
and always hoping for it to be better than today.
We pray for all our friends
to enjoy all the happiness they deserve.
We pray for all those we do not know
to have a little of what we have.
We pray for our health and safety
and that everyone be free.
On Sunday when we go to church
and on our knees we get
and for all these things,
we pray.
17 May 2009
poem by David Harris
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Too Cold For Prayer?
The houses of worship have grown too cold.
I can't get warm in them
with all their gold.
I leave the church. I look around.
Pitiful people do I see
listening to the sound
of children starving as they cry.
I feel cold
and I ask God why?
Why do they kneel and sing and pray
in places too cold
on each Sunday?
The answers I get are all the same.
They pray to God
in a ritualistic game.
Well, I pray to God on every single day
in my own temple
in my warm way.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hypocrisy In Christianity
today is Sunday
the one day sunday christians
are off to church
these are the Christians
who are only Christian
one day Sunday a week
Christians for only one day?
one day sunday for a few hours?
sin of Hypocrisy in Christianity?
is one of the most detestable sins
it causes righteous worshippers to stumble
it takes the name of God in vain
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Some Have Steeples. Some Don't
What do I think of church?
'Yes! '
Church?
Like in 'church' church?
'Yes! '
Well...
Some have steeples.
Some don't.
Some have people.
Some wont.
Some are religiously political.
And some are politically religious.
My vehicle is my church.
And that's all I care about.
'Oh?
So your 'car' is your church? '
Oh.
No no!
My 'body' is my church.
It is my sanctuary.
Now...
Keep in mind,
I am not devoted to keep it as pure,
As it should be.
But I do the best I can,
Not to be led away by temptation.
But everyday I pray to be forgiven,
Of those 'sins' I know I should not enjoy!
However...
You can find me anytime,
Self righteously defending...
My point of view.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Contradiction
They go to church with their prayer books on sunday and praise the lord and sing their hymns and pray
And when their political leaders talk of war they support them for war to them one might say seems okay
They are what one might call a contradiction their love for god and war go hand in hand
These people who love god and talk of bloodshed are people that are hard to understand.
They go to church to pray to the almighty though with their next door neighbour they're at war
But they kid themselves by their self delusion for they take self delusion that bit far
They say they love god though their god from them seem distant and they don't seem to have their god within
And if their god exist then their god will disown them for god's approval they could not hope to win.
These people truly are a contradiction they go to church and praise their god in song
Yet some of them belittle their next door neighbour and some of them will tell you war's not wrong
And some of them back their political leaders to dropp bombs on people they don't even know
And they think they are decent church going people yet for others compassion they do not show.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Most of us spend the first six days of each week sowing wild oats; then we go to church on Sunday and pray for a crop failure.
quote by Fred Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven's Just A Prayer Away
Heaven's Just A Prayer Away - Dolly Parton
If you're trying to reach Heaven
you talk to Jesus, you talk to Him every day.
'Cause Jesus knows, He knows that you are coming
and Heaven's just a prayer away.
If you go, if you go to church on Sunday
you get down on your knees and pray
and give your heart and your soul to Jesus.
Heaven's just a prayer away.
You are just one prayer from Heaven
as you travel down life's highway.
Just when you think that you can't make it,
well, Heaven's just a prayer away.
Of, if you go, if you go to church on Sunday
you get down on your knees and pray
and give your heart and give your soul to Jesus.
Heaven's just a prayer away.
Heaven's just a prayer away.
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A revival does two things. First, it returns the Church from her backsliding and second, it causes the conversion of men and women; and it always includes the conviction of sin on the part of the Church. What a spell the devil seems to cast over the Church today!
quote by Billy Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church On Sunday
Today is the first day of the rest of our lives
Tomorrow is too late to pretend everything's alright now
I'm not getting any younger as long
As you don't get any older
I'm not gonna state that yesterday never was
Bloodshot
Deadbeat and lack of sleep
Making your mascare bleed
Tears down your face
Leaving traces of my mistakes
When I say
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
I hereby solemny swear to tell the whole truth
And nothing but the truth is what I'll ever hear from you
"Thrust" is a dirty word that comes from such a liar
But "Respect" is something I will earn
If you have faith
Bloodshot
Deadbeat and lack of sleep
Making your mascare bleed
Tears down your face
leaving traces of my mistakes
When I say
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
Let's go
Ohhhhhhhhh........
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
And this compromise
It's a compromise
song performed by by Green Day from Warning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Raining On Sunday
It ticks just like a timex
It never lets up on you
Who said life was easy
The job is never through
Itll run us til were ragged
Itll harden our hearts
And love could use a day of rest
Before we both start falling apart
Pray that its raining on sunday
Stormin like crazy
Well hide under the covers all afternoon
Baby whatever comes monday
Can take care of itself
cause we got better things that we could do
When its raining on sunday
Your love is like religion
A cross in mexico
And your kiss is like the innocence
Of a prayer nailed to a door
Oh surrender in much sweeter
When we both let it go
Let the water wash our bodies clean
And love wash our souls
Pray that its raining on sunday
Stormin like crazy
Well hide under the covers all afternoon
Baby whatever comes monday
Can take care of itself
cause we got better things that we could do
When its raining on sunday
Pray that its raining on sunday
Stormin like crazy
Well hide under the covers all afternoon
Baby whatever comes monday
Can take care of itself
cause we got better things that we could do
When its raining on sunday
When its raining on sunday
When its raining on sunday
Let it rain
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday
(How u gunna let that gurl get between us baby?
Do u even know her name? How am i supposed to make it through to u?)
(Chorus)
Is Sunday gunna be ma day to take it easy
(make it all about me)
maybe on monday think about callin
maybe tuesday we'll see how i feel
Is sunday gunna be ma day to take it easy
(and make it all about me)
maybe on monday think about callin
maybe tuesday we'll see how i feel
it's 9:30 in the mornin, i didn't sleep a while again
cussed all night long boy
i can't stand when we fight like this
here we go again so i have to be gone
can't deal with the phone line
gunna take a time out
i need to take the day off
gunna take some time to gather my thoughts, gather myself
i need some time without you, without you
(Chorus)
Maybe i'll just take a walk
a few blocks get a bit to eat
maybe a movie (but not a love story)
try to get in the jeep, listen to some cds
what i need to do is go to church
and pray for that gurl that got between us
and pray i don't see her
pray that i don't meet her
pray that i don't beat her
(Chorus)
what she says and what she does ain't no concern to me
she don't feel the need to be up in all ma business
baby u really didn't take the time to talk to me
played me and betrayed me
now maybe i need, i need, A
(Chorus)
(OH OH OH OH OH OH)
(fades)
song performed by by Heather Headley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday
Sunday
Only church's
Housefull...
God working day is
Sunday...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bredon Hill
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Sunday Afternoon in Chocolate City
It is Sunday afternoon in Chocolate City.
I only came to visit,
but I drank of a bittersweet brown elixir
and came down with an allergic reaction to leaving
My endorphins got all swollen
with the spiritual notion
of Black Love
It is Sunday afternoon in Chocolate City
My lover is on bended knee beside me
We had been fighting over nothing in particular,
Perhaps just because the thing between us is so strong
We barely have room for our own selves.
So we pray.
Pray for love
Pray for strength
Each for someone else
Then for one another
Together we Pray
for the anger to go away
Ask for understanding of a love so strong it chokes
and we can only breath together
we share the air between us
always, out of breath
always, needing more
Just like that,
reaching for a tissue,
an accidental brush
we are twisted limbs of amber and mahogany
backsliding into one another
sweaty in humidity
our wetness caramelizing on the floor
It is Sunday afternoon in Chocolate City
And we forgot to say “Amen”
by Ghetto Girl Blue
poem by Jessica Holter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Retort
My land is not for barter, sir
my land is not for barter, na
and there's to you ya silly foo
my land is not for barter, na
My people's not for buyin' sir
my people's not for buyin' oh
and there's your pipe for smokin', sir
my people's not for buyin', na.
They go to church o' Sunday, sure
they go to church o' Sunday sure
and I will be assurin' yer
they go to church o' Sunday, sir
They sing and praise their Maker, now
they sing and praise their Maker, now
and sure it is amazin' how
they sing and praise their Maker, how.
The grace o' God is on them, sure
the grace o' God is on them, yeh
and on their work and on their ware
the grace o' God is on them now
You voices join together, now
and every hand a fellow find
our land is not for barter, sir
and we are people not for buyin'.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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