Today,
In our uptown “Church-section”,
I went to pass
Upon the walk
Two obviously out-of-town
Elderly ladies;
And one, peering up, said,
“How do they ever
Fill them all up?”
Well, lady,
I hate saying it–
But they don’t
Fill them all up,
At least very often.
But think of all the sacrifice,
And think of the toil,
And all the money,
And the sweat,
And all the vision;
And most of all, the Faith
It took to build just ONE.
Of all these churches.
If our hearts resembled,
Even faintly,
The hearts of those whose very lives
Made those churches
So we today
Might go and worship
As we feel the urge,
They’d be filled and overflowing
Every Sunday.
But, they’re not filled–
At least very often.
But I am filled
With admiration
For the good folk
Who built those churches,
Just the same.
I think it’s better to have aimed a little high,
Than fail to function for the lack of aim.
by Ray Romine Thursday, January 27, 1944
