The Church and the World walked far apart,
On the changing shores of time;
The World was singing a giddy song,
And the Church a hymn sublime,
`Come give me your hand," cried the merry World,
"And walk with me this way;"
But the lovely Church hid her snowy hand,
And solemnly answered, "Nay."
"Yea, walk with me but a little space,"
Said the World with a kindly air;
"The road I Walk is a pleasant road,
And the sun shines always there.
My path, you see, is a broad, fair path,
And my gate is high and wide,—
There is room enough for you and me
To travel side by side."
Half shyly the Church approached the World,
And gave him her hand of snow;
The old World grasped it, and walked along,
Saying, in accents low,—
"Your dress is too simple to please my taste;
I will give you pearls to wear,
Rich velvet and silks for your graceful form,
And diamonds to deck your hair."
"I will change my dress for a costlier one,
For satins and gems and pearls;"
And over her forehead her bright hair fell
Crisped in a thousand curls!
"Your house is too plain," said the proud old World;
“I’ll build you one like mine;—
Carpets of Brussels, and curtains of lace,
And furniture ever so fine."
Then fairs and shows in the halls were held,
And the World and his children were there;
And laughter and music and feasts were heard
In the place that was meant for prayer.
"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:"
So he filled her house with gay divines,
Gifted and great and learned;
And the plain old men that preached the cross
Were out from the pulpit turned.
So the alluring World and the gullible Church
Walked closely hand and heart,
And only the Father, who knoweth all,
Could tell the two apart.
And the Church sat down at her ease and said,
"I am rich and with goods increased;
I have need of nothing, and naught to do
But to laugh and dance and feast."
Then a voice came down, through the hush of heaven,
From Him who sat on the throne,
"I know thy works and how thou hast said,
`I am rich;' and hast not known
That thou art naked and poor and blind
And wretched before My face;
Therefore, from My presence I spue thee out,
And blot thy name from its places"
Matilda C. Edwards
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