The Old House on the Hill

Once I stood by a house
  As it set on a hill,
It was twisted and bent
  But it`s standing yet still.
T`was a very old house
  It was built years ago,
It was ugly and worn,
  And it`s age - it did show.

The birds built their nests
  On the rafters and sill,
They would sleep there at night
  They were quiet and still.
In the day they would sit
  Near the edge of the eave,
They would chatter and chirp
  Till your heart it would peeve.

The windows were gone
  From this place of abode,
The hinges were there
  But they carried no load.
The plaster was cracked
  The walls were all bare,
Not a soul was around
  Not a "hide nor a hair."

The brush and the weeds
  They were faithful outside,
They made it look rough
  As they lived, and they died.
The rodents were there
  Mid the leaves and the grass,
There they had a nice home
  They would call it, "first class."

Precious soul, as you read
  Of this story, so cold,
Is your life like a house
  That is covered with mold?
Has the time slipped away
  Till it`s sad and too late,
To redeem and buy back
  Squandered years, - mankind`s fate?

Is your life like a house
  That is empty and bare?
Are you void of his grace
  Cause you never would care?
Have you helped those in need
  As they plunder along,
Have you been a kind soul
  Have you sung a sweet song?

Has your life been a light
  To some soul in the dark,
Have you showed him the way
  Have you saved his frail barque?
Or, can it be true
  That you`ve failed to unlatch
All the "windows of truth."
  That a beam he may catch?

Do not be like this house
  As it sets on the hill,
Don`t be empty and void
  Let the Lord your heart fill.
Up! arise! stir yourself
  Do not longer delay,
Smite the foe of thy soul
  Cast him out, yes, today.

--Virgil D. Shultz

1899-1973