The Church Steeple
The spire of hope, aiming to the sky
Overlooks the city, full of passers-by
Its white gleaming paint and golden cross
Pointing to hope for a humanity that is lost
The world is convinced that its message is no longer needed
They say the God of its claims went ignored and unheeded
Glamour and fame, bright lights and smart phones
Humanity defined as evolved flesh and bones
The steeple has seen many clouds go by
Suns have risen up and sunken in the sky
The Gospel preached under its point below
Has seen such claims come and go
An atheist said Christianity would be laid to rest
Yet his home became a Bible printing press
The church's identity rises no higher than the cross
The Savior will prevail despite culture's tempest toss
I fear not of skeptics ramblings, ebb and flow of culture's tide
The Steeple of the Gospel will stand and the Word will abide
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