Rulers of So­dom! hear the voice
Of Heav’n’s eter­nal Lord;
Men of Go­mor­rah! bend your ear
Submissive to His Word.

’Tis thus He speaks; to what in­tent
Are your obla­tions vain?
Why load My al­tars with your gifts,
Polluted and pro­fane?

Burnt of­fer­ings long may blaze to Heav’n,
And in­cense cloud the skies;
The wor­ship and the wor­ship­er
Are hate­ful in My eyes.

Your rites, your fasts, your pray­ers, I scorn,
And pomp of so­lemn days:
I know your hearts are full of guile,
And crook­ed are your ways.

But cleanse your hands, ye guil­ty race,
And cease from deeds of sin;
Learn in your act­ions to be just,
And pure in heart with­in.

Mock not My name with hon­ors vain,
But keep My ho­ly laws;
Do jus­tice to the friend­less poor,
And plead the wi­dow’s cause.

Then, though your guil­ty souls are stained
With sins of crim­son dye,
Yet, through My grace with snow it­self
In white­ness they shall vie.