This is an old poem. I do not know who wrote it. I have had it for years and years.
The Church Walking With the World
The church and the world walked far apart
On the changing shores of time,
The world was singing a giddy song,
And the church a hymn sublime.
"Come, give me your hand," said the merry world,
"And walk with me this way!"
But the good church hid her snowy hands
And solemnly answered, "Nay,
I will not give you my hand at all,
And I will not walk with you;
Your way is the way that leads to death;
Your words are all untrue."
"Nay, walk with me but a little space,"
Said the world with a kindly air;
"The road I walk is a pleasant road,
And the sun shines always there;
Your path is thorny and rough and rude,
But mine is broad and plain;
My way is paved with flowers and dews,
And yours with tears and pain;"
"You give too much to the poor," said the world,
Far more than you ought to do;
If they are in need of shelter and food,
Why need it trouble you?
Go, take your money and buy rich robes,
Buy horses and carriages fine;
Buy pearls and jewels and dainty food,
Buy the rarest and costliest wine;
My children, they dote on all these things,
And if you their love would win
You must do as they do, and walk in the ways
That they are walking in."
So the poor were turned from her door in scorn,
And she heard not the orphan's cry;
But she drew her beautiful robes aside,
As the widows went weeping by.
Then the sons of the world and the sons of the church
Walked closely hand and heart,
And only the Master, who knoweth all,
Could tell the two apart.
Then the church sat down at her ease, and said,
"I am rich and my goods increase;
I have need of nothing, or ought to do,
But to laugh, and dance, and feast."
The sly world heard, and he laughed in his sleeve,
And mockingly said, aside,
"The church is fallen, the beautiful church;
And her shame is her boast and her pride."