Empty pews, empty pews; there's far too few
Empty pews, when many more would do;
Come home, come home, where love is born-
Don't leave your loved one all forlorn.
Empty pews say nothing real about you,
Just some polished wood and fabric, glue;
There’s no soul, in the steeples tall-
There’s no beating heart, at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem