Alas does Sunday come, trudging toward the end
Weekly does it bring, a begrudging satisfaction
A kiss goodbye to work, and things left undone
And yet with rest comes, the shiver of my unbusied hands
Freedom feels quite heavy, when my mind still feels enslaved
For the brute force of schedule beckons, with the whip of pay
Save some room for me, in the pew by the door
For with me comes the hope that I will rest in the Lord.