Waving and reaching the evergreen saluted his Creator
as the crash occurred.
Immovable, he was, that hill of stone yet to be hewn
as the hammer fell.
From the very depths he did not appear so bright
the gypsum burst forth.
From incessant pounding winced the molten slabs
cool nails in boxes.
Moving, travelling, arriving, assembling,
God makes a church.
© 1999 by Dr. Richard C. Gamble