Chorus:
    Straining at gnats, swallowing camels,
    Compassion discarded as your piety thrives,
    Majors of minors, true majors forsaken,
    The truth oft’ mistaken in the deeds of your lives.

Pillars of truth with confessions displaying,
Like phylacteries they lengthened long ago,
But lost and aloof in the Christ you’re portraying,
Fervent and foundational the love you should show.

Increasing in knowledge and the depth of your sacrifice,
With a purity that few can deny,
Vessels of virtue so burdened with splinters,
That you can not see the beam extending far from your eye.

Poised in the bleachers critiquing the action,
Quick to cite the failure and blame,
At halftime they cry out, the need for participants,
But you will not leave your lofty seat to play in the game.

Bridge:
    The harvest in ripe with grain,
    And the laborers are so few,
    Cause the workers stay in the pews,
    Though your doctrine is sound,
    You’re still losing ground.

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