We’ve traded the anointing

For man-made applause

Impotent of power

While quoting the clause.

 

And I can no longer

Sit still in silence

When the fire of the Holy Ghost

Is causing a riot.

 

We’ve plenty of talent

And orations grand

But very little honestly

Transformation of man.

 

And until we get honest

And confess now our lack

Perhaps we’ll be left with

Dry bones of the past.