You call yourself an instrument of God,
selected to seek vengeance for some wrong;
I wonder, do you ever think it odd
that retribution should be your sole song,
that God, who has a symphony of life
to call upon or move on His behalf
should need your petty anger as his knife
to separate the good wheat from the chaff?
How brazen, that you think you know what irks
God most, that your convictions reflect His;
How hypocritical to think your bloody works
can ease some Divine pain. What sad hubris!
What’s more, an instrument that only doles
out death — what a small repertoire indeed!!
To think that funeral march alone extols
the virtues of your maker, or His needs,
supposes Him so helpless, small and weak;
no mountain, but a mere mud-spattered clod.
No wonder that He gives you leave to speak
to call yourself an instrument of God.
12 JUL 2005