To the Controllers, Bishops and the Like

 

Be careful, Bishops, what you’d bottle up,

What streams of living water you would dam:

The Lord respects and fills each child his cup

With special liquor from The Great I AM

 

Even so the hapless beggar has his song

Some streamlet from the mountain’s hidden spring

Which might have been a river running strong

Had but the man been given his right to sing.


Too often those who wield their wand of power

Obstruct God’s very flow and turn it sour

Thus does His very grace become disgraced

And plans of Love are thrown back in His face.


For sometimes those appointed and approved

Without discernment on some bishop’s part

Fall into pride and surface quite removed

From that anointing that bespeaks the earnest heart.


Then envy springs up in the muttering flock

Fingers are pointed at the favored son

Then factions form, unfairness is proclaimed

And churches split down to the weakest rock.

 

So prone are hierarchies to pride’s foul sway,

The word of faith becomes the only way.



(Revision 2/ 27/03)



Copyright 2006 Gene Pinkney
No portions may be copied without attribution