The Church Of Man (1) Poem by Michael P. Johnson

Some go to church and life is fine
They treat their neighbours well
They eat the bread they drink the wine
Still on the road to hell


For many think their deeds are good
A great delight to man
They fail to honour Jesus’ blood
Or drink it whilst we can


However good to man it seems
However fortunes flow
We’ll live a life of puffed up dreams
With nothing else to show


While darkness reigns within the heart
When hearts remain as stone
Of Jesus’ life we’ll have no part
We’ll die in sin alone


Man’s church at first seems more than blessed
Great buildings wide and tall
But where the Lord is not chief guest
Each stone therein will fall


Although inside they sing and pray
Their eyes will fail to see
For who therein can smell decay
Amongst the loose debris


Like fools they wander with the crowd
Their road is smooth and wide
Like large base drums they’re awfully loud
With only air inside


This fact we all must understand
However rich our lives
Without The Saviour’s guiding hand
We’re still the devil’s wives...