“Come, give me your hand,” said the merry World,

        “And walk with me this way!”

        But the faithful Church hid her gentle hands

        And solemnly answered “Nay!

        I will not give you my hand at all,

        And I will not walk with you;

        Your way is the way that leads to death;

        Your words are all untrue.”

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That's the worldly evangelicals that try to entice us to their worldly churches with cars and TVs, cheap grace, etc.

        “Nay, walk with me but a little space,” 

        Said the World with a kindly air;

        “The road I walk is a pleasant road,

        And the sun shines always there.

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That's the evangelicals enticing us with saying we build only on works and that it's all by faith and grace. They just promote cheap grace to make the road to heaven so easy. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM. THEIR WAY LEADS STRAIGHT TO HELL.

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        Your path is thorny and rough and rude,

        But mine is broad and plain;

        My way is paved with flowers and dews,

        And yours with tears and pain.

        The sky to me is always blue,

        No want, no toil I know;

        The sky above you is always dark,

        Your lot is a lot of woe.

        There’s room enough for you and me

        To travel side by side.”

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More of the same. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM. Besides, we have many joys they don't know about. They are so busy going to church and looking good that they don't have time for family and simple pleasures.

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        Half shyly the Church approached the World

        And gave him her hand of snow;

        And the old World grasped it and walked along,

        Saying, in accents low:

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This is a neighbouring church. My mother kept telling me about it. She remembered when they were plain. Today they cannot be identified from the rest of the world. Very sad.

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        “Your dress is too simple to please my taste;

        I will give you pearls to wear,

        Rich velvets and silks for your graceful form,

        And diamonds to deck your hair.”

        The Church looked down at her plain white robes,

        And then at the dazzling World,

        And blushed as she saw his handsome lip

        With a smile contemptuous curled.

        “I will change my dress for a costlier one,”

        Said the Church, with a smile of grace;

        Then her pure white garments drifted away,

        And the World gave, in their place,

        Beautiful satins and shining silks,

        Roses and gems and costly pearls;

        While over her forehead her bright hair fell

        Crisped in a thousand curls.

        “Your house is too plain,” said the proud old World,

        “I’ll build you one like mine;

        With walls of marble and towers of gold,

        And furniture ever so fine.”

        So he built her a costly and beautiful house;

        Most splendid it was to behold;

        Her sons and her beautiful daughters dwelt there

        Gleaming in purple and gold.

        Rich fairs and shows in the halls were held,

        And the World and his children were there.

        Laughter and music and feasts were heard

        In the place that was meant for prayer.

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This is the story of what happens when plain people start giving their hand to "the world." My aunt kept her plain dress but her children did not and her grandchildren go with any weird style of fringe groups in "the world." She and her husband left the plain church because they wanted Sunday School for their children. So did others. But this is the way things go. That is what I was taught.

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        There-were cushioned seats for the rich and the gay,

        To sit in their pomp and pride;

        But the poor who were clad in shabby array,

        Sat meekly down outside.

        “You give too much to the poor,” said the World.

 “Far more than you ought to do;

        If they are in need of shelter and food,

        Why need it trouble you?

        Go, take your money and buy rich robes,

        Buy horses and carriages fine;

        Buy pearls and jewels and dainty food,

        Buy the rarest and costliest wine.

        My children, they dote on all these things,

        And if you their love would win

        You must do as they do, and walk in the ways

        That they are walking in.”

        So the poor were turned from her door in scorn,

        And she heard not the orphan’s cry;

        But she drew her beautiful robes aside,

        As the widows went weeping by.

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This sounds like prosperity gospel which, so far as I know, Mennonites of all stripes shun like the plague. It violates human sensibilities of compassion and empathy.

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        Then the sons of the World and the Sons of the Church

        Walked closely hand and heart,

        And only the Master, who knoweth all,

        Could tell the two apart.

        Then the Church sat down at her ease, and said,

        “I am rich and my goods increase;

        I have need of nothing, or aught to do,

        But to laugh, and dance, and feast.”

        The sly World heard, and he laughed in his sleeve,

        And mockingly said, aside:

        “The Church is fallen, the beautiful Church;

        And her shame is her boast and her pride.”

        The angel drew near to the mercy seat,

        And whispered in sighs her name;

        Then the loud anthems of rapture were hushed,

        And heads were covered with shame.

        And a voice was heard at last by the Church

        From Him who sat on the throne:

        “I know thy works, and how thou hast said,

        ‘I am rich, and hast not known

        That thou art naked, poor and blind,

        And wretched before my face;’

        Therefore from my presence cast I thee out,

        And blot thy name from its place.”

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That is exactly what I was taught would happen with the evangelicals--and to us if we dared give them so much as our hand. Just look at what happened to my cousins and their children.

                                               

                                                by Matilda C. Edwards

                                       

Best Loved Poems (Garden City, NY: Garden City Publishing, 1936), pages 345-347.

This poem was not listed among those that required reprint permission.

Link.