Untitled Poem

This poem was written a few weeks ago, but it wasn't until another poem was written and the two were consolidated that it was presentable. It's not titled yet, so I'll welcome any suggestions.


They dwell in shadow, gloom and dusk,
Find shelter in the night,
And burrow in the deepest pits,
Embracing darkness, shunning light.

While dressed in soiled robes they sing,
Ignoring scarlet stains.
Deceived by demons’ soothing words
They do not see their iron chains.

These squatters in the house of God
Have learned the phrase to sell.
With poisoned words they tickle ears
And coax the seekers into hell.

“God will forgive,” the oft-used cry
Recited by each man.
“I know I stumble, but I try!
God loves me just the way I am.”

“I’m covered by His blood,” they say,
But will God hide His face
From wicked deeds of faithless men?
Will He spare “sinners saved by grace”?

The Lord in Heaven sends His saints
To walk upon the earth
Instructing them to light the way
Escaping darkness, a new birth.

Declaring holiness they come,
“Repent!” is their decree.
The sinners screech, prepare to fight
A battle ‘twixt the slave and free.

“You heretic!” The rally cry.
“Liar! Fraud! Apostate!”
The saints stand firm, their Lord protects
From cornered sinners’ deeds of hate.

We will press on; the time is short,
Unless the Lord delay
And choose to rescue one last soul
Before that blessed eternal Day.