A very provocative poem, by Judge Roy Moore

 America the beautiful,
 or so you used to be.
 Land of the Pilgrims' pride;
 I'm glad they'll never see.

 Babies piled in dumpsters,
 Abortion on demand,
 Oh, sweet land of liberty;
 your house is on the sand.

 Our children wander aimlessly
 poisoned by cocaine
 choosing to indulge their lusts,
 when God has said abstain

 From sea to shining sea,
 our Nation turns away
 From the teaching of God's love
 and a need to always pray

 We've kept God in our temples,
 how callous we have grown.
 When earth is but His footstool,
 and Heaven is His throne.

 We've voted in a government
 that's rotting at the core,
 Appointing Godless Judges;
 who throw reason out the door,

 Too soft to place a killer
 in a well deserved tomb,
 But brave enough to kill a baby
 before he leaves the womb.

 You think that God's not angry,
 that our land's a moral slum?
 How much longer will He wait
 before His judgment comes?

 How are we to face our God,
 from Whom we cannot hide?
 What then is left for us to do,
 but stem this evil tide?

 If we who are His children,
 will humbly turn and pray;
 Seek His holy face
 and mend our evil way:

 Then God will hear from Heaven;
 and forgive us of our sins,
 He'll heal our sickly land
 and those who live within.

 But, America the Beautiful,
 If you don't - then you will see,
 A sad but Holy God
 withdraw His hand from Thee.

 ~~Judge Roy Moore~~