Wednesday, February 13, 2008


There was envy in the glances that a lovely woman cast, At the hairdo of her neighbor while the sacrament was passed, And a Young Woman that I noticed, though a timid lass and shy, Watched a youthful priest intently through the corner of her eye, As he sat behind the table where the sacrament was spread She was not remembering Jesus nor the prayer the priest had said.There was nothing reverential in the things the cub scout drew, On the pages of the hymnbook 'til the sacrament was through, Not a thought of Jesus' passion entered careless elder's minds, As they whispered to each other and the girls they sat behind.And the high priest's brow was furrowed as he stole a furtive glance, At his checkbook's dismal story of his failures in finance.There were hundreds in the chapel, but the worshipers were few, And I couldn't help but wonder what the Lord himself would do I couldn't help but wonder what the Lord himself would say, If he walked into a meeting where his saints behaved that way, Would his loving eyes be saddened? Would his countenance be grim?As he there observed and listened to a meeting meant for Him?