Oh religion’s obsequious eye
To audit all,
That they not stray but yet comply,
Edicts to thrall.
What we once blessed in piousness
Is now much gone;
To glaze like praise on serviced lips
Among the throng.
And now we worship pagan things,
That cross seems odd;
There goods not gods salvation brings,
Where few are awed
When once we dreamt of righteous might
These dreams seem worn,
Yet still for some He rises quite
And Hope drags on.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.