Poem September 8, 1928 ISSUE

The Church of God

FRANCES MARION RALSTON

When sun shone high, a vision came to me—A great cathedral roseAnd spire and domeWere held aloft to heights unthoughtBy mortal man.The aisles were rarest stones,The walls were carved, hand-wrought;The great wide spaces underneath the roofWere studded as with myriad lights,Yet soft, so that the eye was soothed thereby.The chancel was of burnished gold,And on beyond, as in mid-air,The sentence, "God is Love."

I stood upon the threshold of this church;And as I gazedA wondrous thing transpired!See I Peter 2:4, 5, 6. Each stone, each fragment of that beauteous planAppeared a child of God!Then suddenly I knew myself to be stoneWithin its walls.I looked, and lo! quite near at handI saw the face of oneWhom I had shunned because of fancied grievance.He, too, was there, a stone within the wallsOf this living church of God!

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