I spied the steeple of a Church;
So high upon a lofty perch,
From miles upon miles--on an unkempt hill,
One could see the spire still.
The Peoples voices sang about,
Peace and love without a doubt,
There were songs of love of fellowman,
In came a drunk with trembling hand
Tired staggered through the door,
Humbled in pain collaspsing on Alter floor,
Amongst the Parishioner's those who would shout,
"For love of God throw this bum out!"
Up stepped one man with loving heart,
Gave of his tithe the gift of a start.
Years passed: The deed long forgot,
A new Church to be built upon the spot.
A man stepped forth with a generious gift,
When I was down the Church gave me a lift,
Today the White painted Church stands for all to see
From my spot far below the message comes to me.
The choir singing--Amongst them some cried,
Words of caring in one voice, "Let no man of faith be denied!"
Down below a smaller white Church stands,
And the sound of voice's singing heard through the lands.
Inspired long as I sat at my work and a bum walked up
to me and asked the time. I thought a dime?
But he looked up the Church bells began to chime.
We could hear from above the chorus of singers singing.
He crossed himself and kneed down. Unshaven as his friends
yet clean of heart he gave his cross and then he then arose
to join his waiting friends. It was Sunday overtime. Without begging I
opened my wallet he started to refuse. "I am sure you
can use this for breakfast." He blessed me and joined the
other bums. They waved a good deed had been done, and
pen in hand a first poem of mine sprung to life.
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