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The Church

Waving and reaching the evergreen saluted his Creator


as the crash occurred.

Immovable, he was, that hill of stone yet to be hewn


as the hammer fell.

From the very depths he did not appear so bright


the gypsum burst forth.

From incessant pounding winced the molten slabs


cool nails in boxes.

Moving, travelling, arriving, assembling,


God makes a church.

© 1999 by Dr. Richard C. Gamble

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