The gospel of the lord is not fashion,
I weep when I see the church divide into swag & class;
Clergies preaches what pleases the world,
The word suffers in place of robust envelopes;
The level of acceptance and brotherly love,
Depends on the weight of your tithe,
And colour of currency.
Men of alter double as priest in idolatry,
The church is our home;
Our place of peace,
Our sanctuary of penitence,
And sacred land to communion in fellowship
Of him who has risen from the grip of darkness
And who is to come in all majesty!
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