This solemn, classically rhymed poem laments the casual blasphemy of a professed Christian who flings “Oh Jesus Christ!” as an empty exclamation of frustration or surprise, thereby taking the Savior’s holy name in vain. It portrays the deep grief this irreverence inflicts upon God’s heart, the doubts it stirs in observers about the speaker’s true knowledge of the biblical God, and the ancient biblical truth that the tongue holds the power of life and death (Proverbs 18:21). Through vivid imagery and urgent exhortation, the work warns against reveling in such death-bringing words and calls the wanderer to repentance, urging a return to reverent speech that honors the divine Name and chooses blessing over ruin.

In shadowed halls where faith should gleam,
A professed believer, bold in claim,
Utters lightly the sacred Name,
Profaning what the heavens deem.

“Oh God!” he cries in jest or ire,
Not in prayer, but vain and fleet,
A careless word, a thoughtless feat,
That kindles not devotion’s fire.

Yet deeper still the wound is torn
When “Oh Jesus Christ!” escapes the lip—
In shock, in rage, in casual slip,
The Savior’s name as curse is worn.

Not whispered soft in fervent plea,
Nor lifted high in grateful song,
But flung like dust where it belongs
To no one holy, none but He.

How grievous to the Father’s ear,
That Name which angels veil their face,
Now cheapened in the marketplace
Of fleeting anger, fleeting fear!

The heart of God, so full of grace,
Is pierced anew by every sound—
A blade of irreverence profound,
That turns His mercy to disgrace.

The watchers ’round, with doubting eyes,
Behold this soul in hollow guise,
And whisper low, “Does he surmise
The God of Scripture’s truths and ties?

If he who claims the cross as shield
Can toss the Christ in vain despair,
What light within does he truly bear?
What Lord does such a tongue reveal?

” For life and death dwell in the tongue,
As ancient wisdom doth proclaim—
A spring of blessing, or of flame,
Where songs of hope or dirges sung.

To choose the phrase that mocks the Lamb,
Reveling in death’s sharp-edged art,
Is to invite the shadowed heart
To feast where ruin calls its name.

Why revel then in death’s dark art,
Choosing venom over vital breath?
To wound the soul, invite the wrath,
And chain the erring, wayward heart?

Awake, O wanderer, heed the call!
Let words be bridges, pure and true,
To lift the fallen, guide anew,
Lest in thy fall, thou drag us all.

Repent the careless cry, restore
The Name to reverence once more—
For in each breath, we choose the door
To life eternal, or no more.