Sunday’s Bells

The bells of Sunday still in the soft Sunday morning ring.

Ever calling the faithful to prayer, to worship and sing.

Sometimes they toll for the fallen,

Other times they ring for those who have God’s calling.

Oh the smell of fried chicken which drifts enticingly through the air.

One still remembers the life of those and these days.

Where as a child dressed in Sunday’s finest where

after church we would run and play.

The silence of living,

Oh the joy of no deadlines to meet.

The miracle of Sunday’s Bells,

Oh the sweetness now in the Presence of His peace.

Life however is good,

Though many trials we still face.

Yet with the sounding of Sunday’s Bells

I realize the fullness of His Grace.

J. Allen Wilson © 10-22-2011