When sacred order bends to fleeting whim,
And women seize the shepherd’s holy rod,
The flock, confused, strays far from Heaven’s hymn,
Their path obscured by mists that cloak their God.

The Word, eternal, carved in timeless stone,
Appoints the man to guard the altar’s flame,
Yet pride usurps what Scripture calls its own,
And builds a throne where folly stakes its claim.

The pulpit shakes, its roots begin to tear,
When gentle voice pretends to wield the sword,
For chaos reigns where truth should rightly bear,
And shepherds falter, lost to Christ the Lord.

So grave the sin, so dire the cost we see,
When God’s design bows to humanity.