I saw before my very eyes the sheep led all away
They made no sound – those silent lambs – as they walked on their way.
The sheep had come from Sunday kirk. But they knew nothing good.
I saw their deeds – and knew that they believed not as they should.
None ever mentioned sin at all. Faith was a “private thing”
To contemplate: a spiritual kind of window dressing.
They spoke of “many paths to God”. Their shepherds told them so.
The shepherds rounded all them up: go where they’d have them go.
They took an easy road downhill. Sea cliffs beside the sea.
The breakers rolled upon the stones. The wind blew pleasantly.
Their shepherds – these were all quite blind. So from the cliffs they fell.
The sheep all followed them of course: to tumble down as well.
Then we began a startled cry – which stuck within our throats.
Because we saw the falling sheep had all changed into goats.
Go look inside a church sometime: you need take one quick peep.
You’ll find blind shepherds, goats galore: but hardly any sheep.