Shall I be so inclined to care,
Whether or not you fear.
For if I so incline to be,
It will cause much distress for me.
I will hope, I will beg,
Yet not a drop of trust I'll get.
Not one ounce of satisfaction,
Not one blink of true reaction,
A lazy ear, a subtle nod,
Just the sense of a weak facad.
And at your judgement, I will relent,
For the wrath of God, will be spent.
I will taste the doubt from your unbelief,
And I shall wilt before the heat.
If I so incline to not,
The sooner my heart shall rot.
I could not weep between porch and street,
I could not claim my own deceit.
For I knew well the cause of death,
It was my violent lack of breath.
Yet, I covet my own selfishness,
To wash my hands of your distress.
If I care not, I prove myself,
To be among your commonwealth.
For if I hide behind my God,
It would prove my life a fraud.
So I shall, without despair,
Care for you with desperate care.
That you would fear the coming age,
And with your faith begin to trade,
Your wrath for mercy, your hate for love,
Your despair for hope from God above.
Your lies for truth, your law for grace,
To know that Christ died in your place.
So if you fear, to me, it's clear,
That you have found the ears to hear.
Know this too, without contemplation,
All I seek, is your salvation.
