They have bent their world to their words,
And fear, not love, is their binding;
They have harried the might-have-beens,
Self-righteously ever fault-finding
The shadows becoming their homes,
Their cause and their folly self-blinding.
I know not the God that they serve,
Heart-bitter, and hands toil-bleeding.
They see not his light or love
Only wrath and dark prophecy heeding;
In spiralling anger and dread
They seek what they think they are needing.
The earth is the Lord’s, oh yes!
The sun and the rain are his giving.
Their righteousness cannot attain
The peace of his boundless forgiving,
Caught in self-spun webs of deceit,
They have not begun really living.
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