Two short scenes sit side by side here, and the poem lets the reader work out the link. In the first, the head of a Virgin, presumably a statue, has "now" become art. It was once something people prayed to; now it is something people look at. The word "now" suggests a change, and the title, "Age of Reason," hints that a more rational, less devout era has done the changing.
The second scene is humbler. Women, or perhaps one woman, share out "the sad sick and wounded" so they can sleep at a rest home. The missing commas make the list run together, as if the people are one weary crowd. There's no judgment spoken aloud. The speaker simply sets the scenes next to each other. The mood is quiet and a little wistful: holiness has been moved into a museum, while the work of comfort carries on in plain, ordinary hands. The poem seems to ask where compassion lives once faith has faded.