Church- a poem by James Blankinship
I think that I shall never see,
A church that’s all it ought to be;
A church whose members never stray,
Beyond the straight and narrow way.
A church that has no empty pews,
Whose preacher never has the blues;
Where elders ‘eld’ and deacons ‘deek’
And none is proud, and all are meek.
Where gossip never peddles lies;
Or makes complaints or criticizes.
Whose members all are sweet and kind,
And to each other’s faults are blind.
Such congregations there may be,
But none of them is known to me;
So let us work and pray and plan,
To make this church the best we can.