In Our Dead Church

Our attendance is a mere formality, a routine unconnected to the hearts We sing, but not to the True God, We pray with wondering Hearts Even Prayers are dead, it is a mere routine of minutes The fervency is gone, we know it from our hearts We are just socializing The men are now old who tore our hearts in years gone by They are tired by age or backslidden, We only remember their gone by exploits And the new ones are distracted by social media and the world In our Dead Church There are no secret prayers, No heart-searching sermons, The choristers are desperately seeking applauds They import songs from the other side and characteristics of the unregenerate Our dead church Now have special seats in front differentiating men from men We are no longer brethren, Pride ekes outs We have become Ichabod We tell stories of yesteryears and hoped the days will come again In our Dead church, we worship men Mere mortals, we fight or hate those who oppose them They like it so, unlike Jesus who recognized the spirit In our dead Church, things have become mechanical Messages are no longer divine, they are from the internet Our love is conditional Our hypocrisy is loud Our head is full, our hearts are empty We are Christians in church but sinners at home Don’t judge me is our lyrics in defence In our Dead church, we have sent The Master out We have become masters as we swindle the people through tithes and offering Our old clergyman still keeps his office Even when he ought to be silent so we can repent In our dead church The new Pastor never witnessed revival; he knows nothing about it Our hearts are dead, our soul is panting and yearning for the church of Acts Where Jesus was enthroned above man and mundane things of earth We are back to Rome Where are the Luther? Where are the Zwingli? Who will bring Jesus to His throne (our hearts)