Poetry

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We have made this monument of grace
a stinking sepulchre of graceless beings,
a furnace that burns dry bones to ashes.

Don’t we understand from the Book
sin is dead powerless to kill sinners
for Christ Jesus left no debt unpaid?

Our unbending knees, tearless eyes
dig for sinning saints a bottomless pit
wall out of grace the darkened souls
making our Gospel richly graceless.

Where is that comfort in our words,
Godly mercy in our shameful deeds
or compassion in our shameless greed?

Our Great House is so prosperous
and prosperously bankrupt of grace

Let’s go learn again from the Merciful
Who will have mercy and give more grace
that gracelessness defiles the soul
so much that we do not remember
that for even us to enter that Home divine
we must above all be objects of Grace.

Go from here and be graceless no more
for gracefulness defines that one soul
that is truly purged of worldly darkness.

You may forget all but not this one thing:
It is not the sin that kills the sinner,
Murderers of grace are the real killers.

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