Sunday Mourning

The hostile air taints the holy ground,
as darkness creeps in without making a sound.

We celebrate the Sabbaths, and like flowers, we bloom,
yet the 4th commandment is overcome with gloom.

Blasphemy penetrates the walls of sanctuary;
while, lust and greed loiter in the background for company.

Worshiping the Lord has never been so grotesque,
but the putrid, empty praises only proclaim Satan's conquest.

Rotten flesh fills the pews, as he sharpens his teeth to devour.
The thick odor of carcasses is enough for the lungs to sour.

The little lambs that run about have closed their eyes to caution;
while, the masters of the pulpit drive their followers to exhaustion.

His public school has been reduced to an exclusive bank.
"Pay to receive," is the fee for the highest rank.

Pure repentance has now morphed into half-hearted chants,
and teachers of deception warp righteousness in rants.

Compromise and false charity are the new golden rules,
as God's Word is contorted into a message for fools.

This day and age has forgotten about the true King's return.
They've covered their hearts from truth, and for hell, they yearn.

The sand is almost on the other side; the hour glass is nearly filled.
The Sunday bells ring now, but that Day, the doors will be sealed.

He will restore his Holy Grounds and the true saints that dwell.
He will also rebuke the wicked ones and those who rebel.

His house remains open to all; so, please heed this warning.
He refuses to be content with disciples of Sunday morning.