Poems (Howard)/The Church of the Good Shepherd
The Church of the Good Shepherd.
Beyond the smoke, beyond the sound Of crowded habitation, With gables quaint and steeple crowned, It stands upon a rise of ground Of charming situation; And city folk as Christians found, With rural dwellers miles around, Make up the congregation.
Beyond obnoxious dust and heat, By ancient elms surrounded, An edifice unique and neat As choice suburban country-seat Its patroness hath founded, In whose calm Sabbath-like retreat From choir and organ anthems sweet Of praise have long resounded.
A vast symmetric pile, ornate With arch and cantalever, With tiles antique that tessellate The spacious roof elaborate; And spire suggesting ever A thought of Him supremely great Who doth approve and stimulate Each nobly-meant endeavor.
Rare arabesques like raveled lace, From architrave to ceiling, Embellish niches that encase Fair cherubim, in classic grace The sculptor's art revealing, That overlook the chancel-space Like sentinels to guard the place When waiting saints are kneeling.
Oh, not in temples thus upreared And richly decorated, Our fathers worshiped, who revered The God they loved no less than feared, But humbly congregated In sylvan shades to them endeared As Bethels where, till He appeared, They fasted, prayed, and waited.
Forever blest the hand that brings, Rebuking pride and malice, This noblest, best of offerings—The gift that speaketh better things From wealth's o'erflowing chalice, Than monuments to buried kings, Or ostentatious pomp that clings Around some stately palace.
May all who throng its transept take New zeal from that old story Of One "as man who never spake," Till notes of gratitude shall break The solemn offertory, And labor wrought for Jesus' sake This "Church of the Good Shepherd" make The gateway unto glory.