Poem January 17, 1925 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

The Church

CAROLYN W. GREENE

STONE on stone,
Prayer on prayer,
Build them high.
Walls of praise shall rise from those
Who have risen from earth's woes,
Who have found the Christ, the way,
Leading to the perfect day
Here, and nigh.

Sheltering roof,
Wing on wing,
Fold it down.
So shall o'er us softly brood
Pinions of God's fatherhood,
Shielding us from storm and stress
With that matchless tenderness
All His own.

Pierce them through,
Wall and dome,
To the light.
Let the eager, opened eyes
That have seen Truth's sun arise
On their night of black despair,
See our windows shining there,
Clear and bright.

Make them broad,
Stretch them wide,
Doors of love.
There are weary hearts without,
Bowed with sorrow, pain, and doubt.
Let us help, and cheer, and bring
Healing in our welcoming
From above.

Thou whose hand
Is our guide
And our stay,
This, the house we raise to Thee,
Shall of true works builded be.
Let Thy dear Word's cleansing fire
Purify our heart's desire,
Burn alway!

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