I see the tall church steeples, <br /> They reach so far, so far, <br />But the eyes of my heart see the world’s great mart, <br /> Where the starving people are. <br /> <br />I hear the church bells ringing <br /> Their chimes on the morning air; <br />But my soul’s sad ear is hurt to hear <br /> The poor man’s cry of despair. <br /> <br />Thicker and thicker the churches, <br /> Nearer and nearer the sky – <br />But alack for their creeds while the poor man’s needs <br /> Grow deeper as years roll by.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/contrasts/
