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 faith may plod;
There goods not gods salvation brings,
Where few are awed
When once we dreamt of righteous might
These dreams now worn,
Yet still for some He rises quite
And hope drags on.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
