I see the tall church steeples,
They reach so far, so far,
But the eyes of my heart see the world-s great mart,
Where the starving people are.

I hear the church bells ringing
Their chimes on the morning air;
But my soul-s sad ear is hurt to hear
The poor man-s cry of despair.

Thicker and thicker the churches,
Nearer and nearer the sky -
But alack for their creeds while the poor man-s needs
Grow deeper as years roll by.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.