Hypocrite

by Mark Spencer

Hypocrite
By Mark Spencer

I sit in church, heart filled with doubt,
Insisting I believe,
I speak in tongues, and sing God's praise,
In order to deceive.

I do not live a righteous life,
Though I pretend I do.
I'd rather lie about myself,
Than let you see what's true.

The ME presented to the world
Is just a counterfeit.
A carefully designed facade,
That hides a hypocrite.

I play the role so very well,
I even fool the priest.
No one can see through my disguise,
In piety I'm fleeced.

But can a wolf dressed as a lamb,
Concealed amongst the flocks,
Hear, from within his hiding place,
The Shepherd when He knocks?

And if he does, what will he gain
By opening the door?
Cannot the shepherd see beneath,
Each mask the trickster wore?

For when our day of judgment comes,
Our souls will be laid bare.
No cloak to hide our treachery,
No golden fleece to wear.

And if that day reveals a truth
That we cannot admit,
Then ours will be the fate that comes
To every hypocrite.