The Church Walking with The World. III

"Your preachers are all too old and plain,"
Said the gay old world with a sneer;
They frighten my children with dreadful tales,
Which I like not for them to hear:
They talk of brimstone and fire and pain,
And the horrors of endless night;
They talk of a place that should not be
Mentioned to ears polite.
I will send you some of the better stamp,
Polished and gay and fast,
Who will tell them that people may live as they list
And go to heaven at last.
The Father is merciful, great and good,
Tender and true and kind;
Do you think He would take one child to heaven
And leave the rest behind?"
So he filled her house with 'cultured' divines,
Gifted and great and learned;
And the plain old men that preached the Cross
Were out of the pulpit turned.

"You give too much to the poor," said the World,
Far more than you ought to do;
If the poor need shelter and food and clothes,
Why need it trouble you?
Go, take your money and buy rich robes,
And horses and carriages fine,
And pearls and jewels and dainty food,
And the rarest and costliest wine.
My children, they dote on all such things,
And if you their love would win,
You must do as they do, and walk in the ways
That they are walking in."
The Church held tightly the strings of her purse,
And gracefully lowered her head,
And simpered, "I've given too much away;
I'll do, sir, as you have said."

God willing, next time we will conclude the poem.