"’Your preachers are all too old and plain,’ Said the gay old World with a sneer; ’They frighten my children with dreadful tales, Which I like not for them to hear: They talk of brimstone and fire and pain, And the horrors of endless night; They talk of a place that should not be Mentioned to ears polite. I will send you some of the better stamp, Brilliant and gay and fast, Who will tell them that people may live as they list, And go to heaven at last. The Father is merciful and great and good, Tender and true and kind; Do you think he would take one child to heaven And leave the rest behind?’ So he filled her house with gay divines, Gifted and great and learned; And the plain old men that preached the cross Were out of the pulpit turned. "’You give too much to the poor,’ said the World; ’Far more than you ought to do. If the poor need shelter and food and clothes, Why need it trouble you? Go, take your money and buy rich robes, And horses and carriages fine, And pearls and jewels and dainty food, And the rarest and costliest wine. My children they dote on all such things, And if you their love would win, You must do as they do, and walk in the ways That they are walking in.’ The Church held tightly the strings of her purse, And gracefully lowered her hand, And simpered, ’I’ve given too much away; I’ll do, sir, as you have said.’ "So the poor were turned from her door in scorn, And she heard not the orphans’ cry; And she drew her beautiful robes aside, As the widows went weeping by. The sons of the World and the sons of the Church Walked closely hand and heart, And only the Master who knoweth all, Could tell the two apart. Then the Church sat down at her ease and said, ’I am rich, and in goods increased; I have need of nothing, and naught to do But to laugh and dance and feast.’ The sly World heard her, and laughed in his sleeve, And mockingly said aside, ’The Church is fallen—the beautiful Church— And her shame is her boast and pride!’ "The angel drew near to the mercy-seat, And whispered, in sighs, her name; And the saints their anthems of rapture hushed, And covered their heads with shame. And voice came down, through the hush of heaven, From Him who sat on the throne, ’I know thy work, and how thou hast said, I am rich; and hast not known That thou art naked and poor and blind And wretched before my face; Therefore, from my presence I cast thee out, And blot thy name from its place!’"—_Sel._ To-day the proud, fashionable sectarian churches are lovingly folded in the arms of the giddy world, and in her mad, drunken, lustful craze she is crying, “On with the dance, let joy be unconfined.”