mametchifan1996
Well-known member
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2010
- Messages
- 261
- Reaction score
- 3
Last Sunday was my turn in the nursery to work.
My heart wasn’t in it, and my feelings were hurt.
A child from its mother did not want to part.
And cried a lot with it’s broken heart.
I prayed that soon the hour would end.
That I could relax -- felt good to be free.
I said once a month was too much for me!
That very next Sunday as I sat in the pew.
A very good sermon, but visitors were few.
But down came a woman and her soul was saved;
And she was the mother of the crying babe.
Then it dawned on me that I had been a part of one being saved
-- giving God her heart.
From that day one, I would never dread
Working in the nursery while souls were being fed.
My heart wasn’t in it, and my feelings were hurt.
A child from its mother did not want to part.
And cried a lot with it’s broken heart.
I prayed that soon the hour would end.
That I could relax -- felt good to be free.
I said once a month was too much for me!
That very next Sunday as I sat in the pew.
A very good sermon, but visitors were few.
But down came a woman and her soul was saved;
And she was the mother of the crying babe.
Then it dawned on me that I had been a part of one being saved
-- giving God her heart.
From that day one, I would never dread
Working in the nursery while souls were being fed.
