Down These Aisles

I walk these aisles

Inaudibly

Invisibly

And recall the purity of faith

That started this building

That acquired the Bibles

That delighted in the little pipe organ

And brilliant children’s materials.

How simple the approach

But full of adoration

Those dear folks adored me

Appearances were unimportant

They approached the Four Evangels

As if thirsty desert travelers

And I satisfied

I did.

Not some other tributary

Body of “teaching”

Not methods

Not concert clash-bang

Not denominations’ handles.

I still come here

Looking for the adoration

And when I find it

The little child/sheep

Trembles and weeps

With blessing so very non-public.

And I whisper, lovingly

I Am the Light of the world.

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