A RUINED CHURCH

They could not take the living God away,

Although they left His altar blank and bare;

Their ruthless hands could never rend and tear

More than the walls, they could not hope to sway

The utter faith that is the nation's heart;

They could not bring a real destruction where

Hymn music had been softly wont to play!

They smothered beauty, and tore hope apart;

But in the house of One who is supreme,

The marks they left will now be sanctified;

The broken walls, when war is but a dream,

Will be a monument to those who died;

And every shell-torn scar will stand for One

Whose hands were scarred, the Christ men crucified!

I think, perhaps, the very morning sun,

Will slant more gently through the broken tower —

And, in good season, that some tender flower

Will bloom beside the ruined threshold, where

Folk paused before they entered in to prayer....