Modern Sabbath

No bells peeling from the steeple,
No churches over-flow with people,
But shopping malls and parking lots
Do not have a vacant spot,
As people rush to get inside
To worship gods of wicked pride,
And never stop to think at all
Of One who saved us from the fall,
Or of a cross up on a hill
Where perfect blood for us did spill,
So that there would be a way
For man to live on Judgment Day,
Oh no, they never stop to think
That this will end quick as a wink,
And all the fool's gold that they trust
Will be transformed to heaps of rust,
But still they crave for one more taste
Of all the filth of this world's waste,
And still His door is open wide
Beckoning all to come inside