Act 2:17, "And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams"
See how beautiful you all perch,
Solely to prove that we're in church.
The old speak in tongues,
And youth preach with gongs.
A sacrosanct routine like this,
And we think we're in the spirit.
So we win many souls today,
Tomorrow we don't know where they stay.
We then give the biblical excuse,
Quoting that the labourers are few.
But do we have enough Pew,
To accommodate the souls anew?
On which solid rock do you stand,
If you won't build in the sinking sand?
So they come in and flush us out,
Because we haven't guarded our own house.
Remember the days of old,
Where in worship, prophesy unfold?
Was there not Eli, when God chose to speak to Samuel?
This is the highest level of maturity,
an epitome of spiritual purity,
and an evidence of transcendent intimacy.
Let your light shine before men,
Else thy gifts be trodden.
You can't let your leaves wither,
Even as the end draws nigher.
Ooh ye, fair daughter of Zion,
Gird up thy loins whilst in thy youth and make that impact.
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