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,” said the merry World,
“And walk with me
this way!”
But the faithful
Church hid her gentle hands
And solemnly
answered “Nay!
I will not give you
my hand at all,
And I will not walk
with you;
Your way is the way
that leads to death;
Your words are all
untrue.”
“Nay, 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.
Your path is thorny
and rough and rude,
But mine is broad
and plain;
My way is paved
with flowers and dews,
And yours with
tears and pain.
The sky to me is
always blue,
No want, no toil I
know;
The sky above you
is always dark,
Your lot is a lot
of woe.
There’s 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;
And 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 velvets and
silks for your graceful form,
And diamonds to
deck your hair.”
The Church looked
down at her plain white robes,
And then at the
dazzling World,
And blushed as she
saw his handsome lip
With a smile
contemptuous curled.
“I will change my
dress for a costlier one,”
Said the Church,
with a smile of grace;
Then her pure white
garments drifted away,
And the World gave,
in their place,
Beautiful satins
and shining silks,
Roses and gems and
costly pearls;
While 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;
With walls of
marble and towers of gold,
And furniture ever
so fine.”
So he built her a
costly and beautiful house;
Most splendid it
was to behold;
Her sons and her
beautiful daughters dwelt there
Gleaming in purple
and gold.
Rich fairs and
shows in the halls were held,
And the World and
his children were there.
Laughter and music
and feasts were heard
In the place that
was meant for prayer.
There-were
cushioned seats for the rich and the gay,
To sit in their
pomp and pride;
But the poor who
were clad in shabby array,
Sat meekly down
outside.
“You give too much
to the poor,” said the World.
“Far more than you
ought to do;
If they are in need
of shelter and food,
Why need it trouble
you?
Go, take your money
and buy rich robes,
Buy horses and
carriages fine;
Buy pearls and
jewels and dainty food,
Buy the rarest and
costliest wine.
My children, they
dote on all these things,
And if you their
love would win
You must do as they
do, and walk in the ways
That they are
walking in.”
So the poor were
turned from her door in scorn,
And she heard not
the orphan’s cry;
But she drew her
beautiful robes aside,
As the widows went
weeping by.
Then the sons of
the World and the Sons of the Church
Walked closely hand
and heart,
And only the
Master, who knoweth all,
Could tell the two
apart.
Then the Church sat
down at her ease, and said,
“I am rich and my
goods increase;
I have need of
nothing, or aught to do,
But to laugh, and
dance, and feast.”
The sly World
heard, and he laughed in his sleeve,
And mockingly said,
aside:
“The Church is
fallen, the beautiful Church;
And her shame is
her boast and her pride.”
The angel drew near
to the mercy seat,
And whispered in
sighs her name;
Then the loud
anthems of rapture were hushed,
And heads were
covered with shame.
And a voice was
heard at last by the Church
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, poor and blind,
And wretched before
my face;’
Therefore from my
presence cast I thee out,
And blot thy name
from its place.”
By
Matilda C. Edwards
