God has a household
He builds with His hands
Where the Son is enthroned
And the Spirit now plants.
He chooses among men
And picks those His own
To grant a heart of flesh, and
 Hails each the living stone.
He breaks open fallow hearts
And sows His Good Seed
To be tended and watered
By the Spirit’s Decreed.
He washes with His Blood
Refines with His fire
He crowns them with Life
His righteousness, their attire.
He clothes them as angels
The inner robe of Immortality
Cloaked in His radiance,
In oneness of Impartiality.
Men who presumed
To lend Him a helping hand
Built mansions and castles
But on sinking sand.
Like their fathers
Raised towers of Babel,
Man-made hills, mounts
Sacrilegious altars of devil.
The wind turned violent,
His anger as hailstones
Crashed with torrential rain
 Leaving no souls, no bones.
But those that heeded
The Shepherd’s staff and rod
Repaired, restored and
 Reaped blessings manifold.
They tarried in wilderness
And supped at His table
They drank of His cup
Their cross, their mantle.
Sheltered from the devil
With angels in tow
Awaiting the completion
Of their Heavenly Depot.
They built at His bidding
With His Silver, Gold and
 Precious Stones; Not to win,
To save. Obeyed as warned!
For the house that is built
Not by His hands
The builder builds in vain
And Judgment he demands.