The God of the Hyprocrites

"For once, I wish that I could be right,

Just once, to take offence at a sinner’s swipe.

To not be shackled to eyes that see,

A man as hypocritical as the likes of me.

Can’t tame a heart that’s quick to rise,

To the ruse of those who hurt, who despise.

And as I rise to my own defence,

My conscience mocks my very innocence.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth”,

Chants the voice of my flesh, the bitter old fool.

“Kill the murderer” roars the mob in glee,

Doing so they murder their own souls, see the bitter irony.

Yet we gather every weekend, at the same place and time,

Under a roof where sinners gather, all covered in invisible grime.

To the untrained eye, this group is as close to saintly as a group can be,

To the awakened soul, we should be the first to be damned and yet, we’re free.

A den of thieves, a harem of fornicators & harlots, a nest of hypocrites, a flurry of the prideful Bourgeois,

A pair of liars, two portions of murderers, a group of the envious and one spoon of the blasphemous.

Three groups who gossip, one pack of wolves, two teaspoons of the idolators, and a cherry on the top with a sprinkle of false prophecy.

We are the church, a sorry sight to behold or revere to any degree,

Dressed in His white robes, none better than you or me.

Yet we are a Chosen herd, a people reserved for Him,

A motley group of tattered saints freed from the consequences of our sin.

Our sins are forgiven, though they are too long to be confined to several lists.

Loved by the one who loves us in spite of ourselves, the God of the Hypocrites."