Ghost of Churches Past
The Ghost of Churches Past
A stately edifice it stands alone
For sale to any buyer.
The patrons of this church
Have fled to ground much higher.
They loved their God
And true they were
They sought out higher ground
For in a cold stone building
Their God they never found.
They drank the spirit willingly
They prayed the sacred words
But when the cry from heaven came
The elders never heard.
The charlatans of prayer
They steal our weary souls
With promises of salvation.
These swindlers of
mans hope and fear
Will never save our nation.
They tuck our weary hearts into
that dark and dreary night.
With promises of heaven.
We shan't give up the fight.
And every measure to a man
and to a woman praying
The children cry, the old ones die,
and none of them are saying.
What's in their hearts, its no mistake
For the God within is true.
And if we follow our heart strings
We'll give the Lord His due.
Will the great deception,
the cyanide of our own blind
faith release us from this world
and its cruel claim to fame?
And whose to say
we would know our Lord
if he finally came.
Never! Sings the birds sweet song,
pure joy this Easter morn.
From the bondage of this ruse
we finally will be torn.
Only the light of understanding
will lift the dark veil of this
dreary abode and roll the
stone from that sepulcher
of our dark dream. For what
we thought and what we know
is never what it seemed.
No longer will we worship
in a stone temple to a living God
who would rather be
remembered midst the
misty morning fog.
Beneath the oracles
of His holy presence
where the Redwoods
kiss the Sea.
I'll find my God,
my fellow man
and finally will I see.
That God is here
and so am I.
No need to say
much more.
The open fount
of wisdom's love
has been an open door.
poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
Added by Poetry Lover
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