When we no longer feel His Holy gaze
When our inner conviction vacillates
When His words lose their sting in us
And sinful actions no longer bite deep
And errant indulgences are our pastime
And the company of the wicked alluring
And if our presence brings them comfort
Then the heart has settled comfortably
Into the callousness of self indulgence
To render our testimony null and void
Our preaching and declarations are but
Empty sounds; words without examples
We become simply beautiful illustrations
Akin to exotic scenes, beautiful paintings,
A picturesque sight, exquisite renderings
Glowing flames of fire without warmth
A row of trees in full bloom on a canvas
Unable to shield us from summer’s heat!
When we live contrary to our profession
We proclaim vociferously our unbelief
We declare a religion that lacks power
As an image in a painted scene lacks life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem