Holy Smoke!

Holy smoke,
she walked on by.
Oh, heaven help us,
God forbid!

And heaven help
her heathen mind,
so lost from grace,
so filled with
every heathen way
we wish
we'd sin.

Jesus Christ,
she said the words.
Oh, heaven help us,
save our souls!

And heaven help
and save her
from the diligent
debauchery
of what she think
is her own goals.

She raise her voice
that should be meek.
She challenge when
she should be weak.

Who is this girl?

Who is this tramp,
that walks on by,
that dares to speak?

Ungodly unpredictable,
so thoughtless,
so respectless,
hopeless, shameless,
irresistible...

She's stirring muddy waters,
digging deep into our comfort,
digging holes into our secret
little chambers tucked away
behind the beating of our blood
and under guilt and shame and
muddy padded comfort zones.

So heaven help us,
will we fall?
Will she be the end of Old,
the end of Safe,
the dawn of New?

Heaven help me,
but I'm ready.

How ready are you?