Seek ye God, oh, priest so holy
In thy saintly glow of yore;
With thine robe of hardened fabric,
And thine staff on the heretic;
With thy hair on sacred floors,
And thy harsh presence, so lonely?

Seek ye God, oh, child of sadness,
With thy eyes turned to lofty skies
And thy hand set on wordly passion;
Thy face so worn, thin and ashen
When thine body pleasure versifies;
And thy mind lies filled with madness?

If thou seekst God, weary craver,
Turn not to the frozen worship
Latched in time's unyelding frame,
But find it in a scorching flame,
In cool water slowly sipped,
In living true to life's sweet flavour.

If thou seekst God, with thy souls open,
Find that it is IT you seek -
For a willing martyr,
A morose prisoner,
And a heart tainted, but meek
Do not speak the same "Amen".