Have you been to a church, where a sermon was hot?
Didn't you see the excitement, and how hearts melt,
Vows are made so rash, pledges to give all cash,
Then the day after, after TV and gossip how the faith crash
Vows they don't honour, now they are in worldly mood,
Causes that appeared holy, now appear mundane,
So in vanity they delve, till the next hot sermon,
Like children in a swing, they gladly sway on.
The Lord has a crowd, very much like a sea saw,
Full of claps and shouts, but faith that won't grow.
His house now turned, into a theatre of the absurd
A People Sunday on fire, but on Monday mortally cold.
So where is the drug, for a faith so week?
In his presence tarry, seven days a week.
In Psalms and fastings, your faith will balance,
Now aligned to deeds, you'll live under grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem