Scaffolding surrounded the altar—

Extending here and there,

One awkward wrought-iron lattice

Creating pitfalls everywhere!

Beneath the same high brackets

Beside the same rusty poles,

Our seat was blocked by girders

Left haphazardly on the floor.

But, were you there on Sunday?

The Body and Blood of Christ was there,

And found a way through wooden planks—

To bring me Holy Communion?

What inconsideration

And what a terrible lack of planning …

How could anyone see in all that dust—

His wonderful radiant presence?

O, what an awful colour

Will that be blue, or grey, or yellow?

Such high-handed overruling

Of our favourite choice of decor.

But when the church is painted

And the scaffolding is all gone

Jesus will still be waiting

For you to come along.

How difficult are the works of man

Creating pitfalls everywhere!

How definite is the work of God