Poetry Archives

As Jesus and his followers
  Upon a Sabbath morn
Were walking by a wheat field
  They plucked the ears of corn.

They plucked it, they rubbed it,
  They blew the husks away,
Which grieved the pious pharisees
  Upon the Sabbath day.

And Jesus said, “A riddle
  Answer if you can,
Was man made for the Sabbath
  Or Sabbath made for man?”

I do not love the Sabbath,
  The soapsuds and the starch,
The troops of solemn people
  Who to Salvation march.

I take my book, I take my stick
  On the Sabbath day,
In woody nooks and valleys
  I hide myself away.

To ponder there in quiet
  God’s Universal Plan,
Resolved that church and Sabbath
  Were never made for man.