Written In Church

Most times I consider my need to live I find too mysterious, its hidden zest I've lent my thoughts to creeds of Hebrew-weave To feed my troubled soul with lasting rest. I sit and watch as harps and violins play They've tamed their worries; bound their doubts to sleep The doubts that stir my soul, they've keþt away They're wolves before mine eyes in church as sheep. They tell me "hold on to the Lamb of God" Be gone from mind, ill thoughts that plead to grow For fall of blasphemy is good reward The best reward for blasphemy is woe. I sit and watch as Heaven weeps and bleeds Her seeds are spread before a church of weeds.