This poem is taken from Malcolm Guite's book, From Sounding the Seasons (Canterbury Press, 2012)
Now to the gate of my Jerusalem,
The seething holy city of my heart,
The saviour comes. But will I welcome him?
Oh crowds of easy feelings make a start;
They raise their hands, get caught up in the singing,
And think the battle won. Too soon they'll find
The challenge, the reversal he is bringing
Changes their tune. I know what lies behind
The surface flourish that so quickly fades;
Self-interest, and fearful guardedness,
The hardness of heart, its barricades,
And at the core, the dreaded emptiness
Of a perverted temple. Jesus come
Break my resistance and make me your home.
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