Galatians 1:6-10 (NIV)

⁶ I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— ⁷ which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ. ⁸ But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under God’s curse! ⁹ As we have already said, so now I say again: If anybody is preaching to you a gospel other than what you accepted, let them be under God’s curse!

¹⁰ Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.

In Galatia’s sunlit vales where first the pure

Glad tidings rang from Paul’s unyielding tongue,

The heavens shook when swift apostates turned

From grace’s fountain to a gospel dunged

With human pride. “I marvel,” thundered he,

“Ye desert Him who called you into light,

To clutch a phantom gospel, no gospel be,

A twisted shadow born of darkest night.”

So now, in latter days more vile, I raise

This iron song against the creeping blight:

Moral Relativism, that serpent’s praise,

Which melts all truth to mist and calls it right.

“No absolute!” it hisses soft and sweet,

“What thou deem’st vice another holds as bloom;

Thy lust, thy greed, thy wrath—these are complete,

For every man his god, and every tomb

A door to self-made paradise.” Thus dies

The eternal Law, dissolved in vapid air,

While consciences, unanchored, fall and rise

On every fashionable, filthy stair.

Then Tolerance, that painted harlot, comes

In rainbow robes and voice of honeyed lies,

Proclaiming, “Judge not!” till the Church grows dumb

And opens wide her gates to every vice.

“Repentance wounds the soul,” the new priests cry;

“The Cross offends—make broad the narrow Way!”

They crown as sacred what the Scriptures name

Abomination, turning night to day,

Till heaven’s pure light and hell’s just fire seem

But equal shades in tolerance’s dream.

Behold the golden calf of Prosperity!

A gospel fat with promises of ease—

“Sow money, reap dominion, health, and glee;

Thy faith hath failed if suffering thou see.”

They nail the Man of Sorrows to a coin,

Make Calvary a marketplace of gain,

Trade thorns for crowns of plastic, and enjoin

The poor to “name it, claim it” in His name.

The blood that purchased pardon now is sold

For private jets and mansions built on sand;

They feast while Lazarus starves outside the fold,

And call their greed the touch of God’s own hand.

All Immorality now struts arrayed

In robes of “liberation,” bold and bright:

Lust hailed as love, pride as empowerment made,

Wrath as justice, sloth as self-care’s right.

A Christ remade who winks at every chain,

A Spirit soft as down, a Father mild

Who never thunders “Turn!” nor counts the slain

That slide in silken ease to darkness wild.

They preach a bloodless cross, a crownless King,

A gospel shorn of power to save or kill—

And bid the nations dance and clap and sing

While souls descend the broad and pleasant hill.

Yet hear the apostolic curse resound,

More fierce than Sinai’s thunder, sharp as flame:

Though Paul himself, or angel heaven-crowned,

Should preach another gospel in Christ’s name—

Anathema! Let him be damned, cut off,

Devoted to destruction’s holy ire!

Twice spoke the Apostle; twice I set it forth—

The gospel stands eternal, fixed, entire.

For am I now a servant seeking men’s applause,

Or God’s alone? Shall I please mortal breath

And lose the crown? Nay! Let the whole world pause

In outrage—still I cleave to living death

Of Calvary. One gospel, one sure blood,

One narrow gate, one Saviour, crucified,

Risen, returning. All the shifting flood

Of lies shall break against this Rock and die.

O Church of the last days, awake! Arise!

Cast off these bastard creeds that wear His name

Yet bear no scars. Cling to the truth that buys

With precious blood, not cars or fleeting fame.

Let every false apostle stand revealed,

Every gilded lie meet its appointed doom,

Till once again the ancient Word is sealed

In hearts that serve—not man—but Christ the Groom.

*Let him who has ears to hear, hear.*