Love the ones who hate you; those who beat you do not spurn.
(Those folks will set your clothes alight and stay to watch
you burn.)
Forgive not one but seven crimes by seventy, He spake.
(I don’t know why she gives so much when all he does is take.)
Count it joy, my brothers; though He slay me, yet I hope.
(He knew the place was deadly; he was hung with his own
rope.)
How you treat the least of these is how you’ve treated me.
(Well, charity’s just fine, but this is highway robbery.)
Churchly coffers don’t get filled by heeding god’s advice,
And Senators don’t bow their heads to get to paradise.
The Word of God is Holy, but now don’t let’s go too far.
The Good Lord knew how weak we were back when he set the
bar.
We boast that love is sacrificing all, withholding none,
But compassion has few allies when the blood begins to run.
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