A house of stone once raised to praise His name,
Now stands accursed, a hollow, empty shell,
Its altars cold, its doctrines turned to shame,
Anathema, God’s voice doth sternly tell.
The scriptures lie, unopened, gathering dust,
Christ’s teachings scorned for fables wrought by men,
The flock misled, their faith betrayed to rust,
A sanctuary lost to prideful sin.
No light of grace illumes its darkened pews,
No truth resounds where once the Word held sway,
The cross defiled by those who would refuse,
To bow before the King in humble way.
Yet still God calls, though walls reject His plea,
“Return, or fall—forsaken thus by Me.”