The Temple on Spiritual Street

There’s a big temple on Spiritual Street

The grandest of them all.

Crosses and statues will you meet

Stately pillars standing tall.

But within the grand old place

Behind the doors of fancy

There is a whole lot of space

But there’s no singing or dancing.

Inside is a wiry old man

To whom Time has not been kind.

Everything God does he thinks he can

No respect for the Most High.

He goes to him when trouble arises

When all hope is lost.

But he only needs help in crises

He benefit’s all that’s sought.

When things are bright and doing well

The Creator of the temple is forgotten

But that’s only when things are going swell

Ignored is God’s only son begotten.

So the man will die old and grey,

False hope always lingering.

He’ll never be able to truly say

That for Christ is all his singing.

All he will ever have

All he will ever be

Is the empty old temple

Sitting on Spiritual Street.

 

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