It might be called a chapel,
A cathedral or a church;
And maybe built of brick or stone
Or hued out of pine and birch.
Some have stained glass windows
That glisten in the sun
Or a tall white steeple or a cross
Or a choir that consists of one.
Of course this isn't relevant
It's what God finds within...
An atmosphere of reverence
Or a noisy, boisterous din?
I sat in church last Sabbath day
Where the members talked so loud
That my guardian angel left the scene
To wait outside on the curb..er, Cloud.
Today, I sit in that same church
But now it's deathly still
For in a coffin up in front
A body lies, so lifeless and nil.
Then suddenly I think how strange,
That today we did accord
More reverence to a man that's dead
Than to our living Lord.
Oh yes, dear friends, we do rush in
Where angels fear to tread;
We say we come to worship God
But chat with friends instead.
The angels stand in reverence
When they come before His throne;
But when God visits His House on Earth
Is this same reverence shown?
Think about it!
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