To Church Poem by Imogene Wagner

I come on hurried running feet,
Annoyed with time,
Vexed with the lady down the street
Hunting a dime-
Irked with the sudden weakened glove
That's sprung a hole,
I, God's masterpiece of love
Tend to my soul.

I come in silently, and smile
Letting the world
Wait at the door awhile,
These hours are pearled,
Tender the organ soothes the time stressed soul
“Nearer to Thee”
Like some angel of Virtue making whole
Of Thee and me.

(November 1948)