On Good Ground

The Church's end has come uncommon slow

a lethargy the leaders saw as growth.

The downward slip at first as lax as sloth;

small movements start an avalanche of snow.

Imperceptibly, it failed: inch by inch it shrank,

lost its high hold on Zion's mountainside.

Gripped by trauma, too anxious lest it slide

dreamed of chancels, music rank on rank.

Those who remain, the remnant - faithful few

Dig deeply, find new loyalty to God.

They know His wrath and feel His painful rod

They seek afresh what God would have them do.

Anointed in His blood they live by grace alone

near the tree of life they find their only home.