Matthew 23 — Woe to the Hypocrites
(Song Lyrics — Clear Spiritual Confrontation)
Verse 1 — They Sit in Moses’ Seat
They sit where Moses once proclaimed,
Speak the law, but live unchanged.
They load the backs of common men,
Won’t lift a finger to help them bend.
They love the titles, love the crowd,
Love to be seen, praised out loud.
But what they teach, they do not do—
Their words are wide, their hearts untrue.
Pre-Chorus
What’s lifted high before the eyes
May hide decay behind disguise.
Chorus — Woe to the Hypocrites
Woe to the hypocrites, dressed in light,
Blocking the door with keys of pride.
You will not enter, you will not move,
And you keep others from breaking through.
What looks like faith but poisons truth
Will face the Judge you can’t outmaneuver.
Verse 2 — Clean Cups, Empty Hearts
You cross the land to win one soul,
Then shape them in your hollow mold.
You swear by gold, ignore the throne,
Measure worth by what you own.
You tithe the herbs, the smallest gain,
But justice, mercy, faith you drain.
You clean the cup the crowd can see,
Inside is theft and cruelty.
Chorus — Woe to the Hypocrites
Woe to the hypocrites, polished clean,
Whitewashed walls with graves between.
Outside right, inside dead,
Prophets’ blood upon your head.
You claim the saints, deny their voice,
And make their murder your present choice.
Verse 3 — Serpents and Sons
You decorate the prophets’ tombs,
Yet sharpen stones for truth’s rebuke.
You say, “We’d never do the same,”
Yet walk their path and share their blame.
Serpents born of hardened ground,
How will judgment pass you by?
You silence heaven’s warning sound,
Then ask why truth no longer cries.
Bridge — From Prophets to the Son
I sent you prophets, wise and true,
You scourged and killed the ones I sent to you.
From righteous blood to Zechariah’s cry,
You filled the measure standing by.
The house you guard stands desolate,
You will not see Me till too late.
Final Chorus — Woe and Warning
Woe to the hypocrites — hear Me now,
Religion loud but hearts won’t bow.
Truth was sent, you turned away,
Now sorrow marks this final day.
The King still calls, but justice stands
For truth rejected by your hands.
Outro — Jerusalem, Jerusalem
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hear Me weep,
How often I would gather your children to Me.
Like a hen who shields from storm and flame,
But you were unwilling to come to My Name.
Your house is left, the curtain torn,
Till you cry, “Blessed is He who comes”—
And the morning breaks beyond the mourn.
