My Church Poem by Randy McClave

My church comforts the sick and the dying
And the ones who are lost and crying,
Together or separate we will sing a hymn
And we will help anyone, either her or a him.

My church also feeds the fallen and the hungry
No mater of their race, creed or country,
And if they are needy or even poor
They can have the clothes that we haven't wore.

When a sadness or suffering comes unto you
Tell me, what does your church say or do,
Do they work, or give, or even read a heartfelt psalm;
That's right, you don't even have one.

Randy L. McClave