Proportionate

I never go to church to pray
Among the crowded pews
Nor kneel before a crucifix
To hail the king of Jews
I never say a prayer
To Saint or Holy Ghost
Nor listen to the preacher's word
That talks of sin the most

But in a pair of eyes
Or drinking silver gin
Or in the colors of a dress
My soul begins to sing

And sunbeams on the wall
Reveal sometimes for me
The beauty that I weave for God
And for Eternity.