Sad Sabbath's Past

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The Dwellers on the Threshold

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The lonely priest sat quite still
In God's own mansion upon the hill
And in his melancholy took his repast
Pondering the memories of sad Sabbaths passed

To his church he had given his days
Awaiting always sight through the haze
Yet as he sat alone with the cold wintry chill
He feared the burdensome bore of more Sabbaths still

Must they always upon his shoulders fall
How can one man be made to bear them all
With his cry going unanswered, he wept
So died the priest while another Sabbath slept

And in God's lonely, heavenly throne
He looked upon the church that was no longer home
And awaited the end of their folly at last
To absolve Him from the sins of sad Sabbath's past

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