 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
248
A CHURCH APPEAL.
Shame on thee, Christian, cold and covetous one!The laws (I praise them not for this) declare
That ancient, loved, deserted house of prayer
As money's worth a layman landlord's own;
Then use it as thine own; thy mansion there
Beneath the shadow of this ruinous church
Stands new and decorate; thine every shed
And barn is neat and proper; I might search
Thy comfortable farms, and well despair
Of finding dangerous ruin overhead,
And damp unwholesome mildew on the walls:
Arouse thy better self,—restore it; see,
Through thy neglect the holy fabric falls!
Fear, lest that crushing guilt should fall on thee.
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