I Wonder If After All These Years
I wonder if after all these years
Each in their seat, sitting there
Every Sunday; Fall, Winter, Spring
And in Summer's hot sultry air.
Have we advanced any cause Divine
Or have words spoken, though well-intended
Been received in silent agreement
And that's where the matter has ended.
Just idle words, eloquent perhaps, but often not
Shall be viewed as sins of omission
Though we seldom ponder sins such as these
Being more concerned with sins of commission.
What purpose does this ritual serve?
If all our doing amounts to words and nothing more
We have advanced no cause Divine
Merely, elevated hypocrisy to heights unseen before.