Pulpit committee
Beware the pastor pulpit
Committee
Who sift through many, many
To choose one who will
Come to your fair city
With eyes bigger than reality
And say, we must erect a tabernacle
That will spire to heaven
Convincing all but two men
To go along with the dream
And so they begin their building
Selling their prime location
And all the yes men then abandon
Leaving the tabernacle without a spire
And then the man the pulpit committee chose
Tires
And leaves for a home garage
Meanwhile the prime property becomes
An O Reilly’s
And the pastor is long gone somewhere
Out in West Flardy.
Beware the pastor pulpit committee
lest you end up with an O Reilly. River of Grace
John Clare Stokes
The river of Grace
Flowed past this place
On the Westside
We did once abide
As one by one
The boats would come
And we would depart
With heavy heart
Some far downstream
Others closely clinging
Not wanting to journey
Full well hoping
This Grace would
Never cease flowing.
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