Of Course I Love the Church
Someone said, "I love the Christ, But not the Church at all." I wondered how the branch could live Apart from vine and wall. For Christ did not leave empty words To echo through the years; He left His living presence here To calm our doubts and fears. At Baptism's font He calls our names And washes guilt away; The wanderer becomes a child, And night gives way to day. In sacred chrism's fragrant oil, The Spirit breathes anew; He strengthens hearts for roads unknown And guides them toward the true. At every altar heaven bends To meet the earth below; The Bread of Life becomes our food, The grace by which we grow. And when the weight of sin returns To burden soul and mind, His mercy waits within the Church For every heart to find. When sickness comes or shadows lengthen, And earthly strength grows small, His healing touch remains nearby, A comfort through it all. He calls some men to serve His flock, To preach, forgive, and teach; Through willing hands His blessings still Are offered within reach. He joins a man and woman, too, And crowns their faithful love; A living sign upon the earth Of greater things above. So yes, I love the Church He built, And gladly call her mine; For every grace that fills my life Flows from the Love Divine. Of course I love the Church, my friend— How could I not, you see? For every gift that Christ has given He chose to give through her to me.