Cleaning out my files, I recently ran into a commentary I wrote after suffering through an extremely long-winded sermon at a Homecoming chapel service back in the mid-1970s. (The service should have concluded at 12 but didn't get out until 12:20.) It can be sung to the tune of the hymn, O God Our Help In Ages Past:
I do not for one moment doubt
that you have much to say;
but next time you can count me out,
I do not have all day.
"They also serve," it has been said,
"who only sit and wait."
But those who sit until they're dead,
may start to serve too late.
You need not show us all your stuff,
you need not numb our brains;
eternity is not enough,
time finite still remains!