Upon their lips the sacred words do fall,
Yet in their heart a shadowed doubt resides,
They sing of grace, but heed not heaven’s call,
A mask of faith their truest self derides.
With honeyed tongue they weave a pious tale,
While secret sins like thorns within them grow,
Their soul, a ship with torn and tattered sail,
Drifts twixt the light and depths they dare not know.
Oh, how they kneel to pray at dawn’s first gleam,
Yet turn to chase the idols of their mind,
A fractured one, caught fast in fleeting dream,
Whose double will leaves truth and peace behind.
For God’s clear eye sees through each veiled deceit,
And leaves the wav’rer lost in soul’s defeat.