Classic Poem

Dear friends, I know you mean your best,
Thinking to serve your Lord and mine,
When thus you pluck me from your breast
For having join'd His Church divine.

O if ye knew! but words are vain;
Ye cannot learn what ye despise;
And it is idle to explain
The truth to those who shut their eyes.

Yet I will say, If but ye knew
The things which blindly ye condemn;
Could ye but feel as children do,
And deign for once to learn of them;

Before that Church which now you hate,
That Church which you refuse to hear,
Which in your hearts you execrate,
And which, while you revile, you fear, —

O, with what love and joy and trust
Would you not all with one accord
Exult to bow yourselves in dust,
As the pure image of her Lord!

Bethink ye, friends, a day is near —
How near to each, O who can say? —
When falsities will disappear,
And all be seen as clear as day.

Unhappy those who now their eyes
To close against the Truth agree;
But then with sorrow and surprise
Shall be compell'd that Truth to see!

Pause and reflect; your time is short;
Soon will this hurried life be o'er:
Too late perchance ye may be taught
What might have sav'd if learnt before.