Should you with me deal sorrow Lord,
Then may it be of memories past.
And let not the evil hoards
Stick me with their pagan swords,
While tears stain cheeks of saints at last.
I leapt from Rome into the dark
Where no man knows what waits
Upon my conscience and beating heart
I must stand and never part,
Though consequence be damned to fate.
Democrats and Bibles
Never a healthy mix,
What peaceful foibles
and war-born travels,
Land the church in an awful fix.
Infants murdered in houses of mercy,
And perversion in the streets,
Can we with conscience bow or curtsy
Before a God who hates universally
these ideals we cannot defeat?
God, give me Rome
That I could trade
the horror of our present home
for power of the church alone
in place of a Christless charade.