The Holy Place.
Mary Frances Butts.
The people came to the priest,
“Good father,” said they,
“We love the holy altar
Where we kneel to pray;
We would ’broider a cloth
Of fine silk and wool
To cover the altar,
For our hearts are full.”
“My children,” said the priest,
“When the heart is full,
Spend not its treasure
In fine silk and wool.
Listen, my children,
Do you hear a moan?
’Tis the poor man waiting,
Sick and alone.
“His darlings ask in vain
For a piece of bread;
And what thinks the Lord?”
The good priest said.
“The tender-hearted Christ
Would be very wroth
Should you leave his poor
For an altar-cloth.
“He blesses the holy altar
Where we kneel to pray;
But in the silence
I hear him say:
“Seek me, my children,
In works of grace;
Where you comfort a heart
Is the holy place.”