Holler for dollars, you hypocrite

You lie when you tell us that Jesus was rich

This Man of Sorrows with nowhere to sleep

Is used as an excuse to fleece God’s sheep.

You raise your voice in loud rebuke

Where’s the cash for the new vestibule?

How will we landscape the new Sunday School?

The mortgage payment is coming due.

There’s plenty of pockets out in those pews

Starry-eyed lumps staring up at you

They soak up all your great glad news

Those who pay dues are the ones God will choose.

Saints who don’t pay are only dead weight

Unwilling to die for Jesus’ sake

Tithe on the net or life will get gross

You’ll lose out with God and die without hope.

TV time costs an arm and a leg

Don’t make our dear Savior grovel and beg

We’ve cut back on our salary

The Rice Bowl fund is nearly empty.

So sell your tour to the Holy Land

Gold-plate religion to make it look grand

Multiple mansions and fleets of Mercs

Finance God’s work but not with YOUR perks.

You’ve lived wantonly upon the earth

You’ve fattened your already bursting purse.

You’ve filled up your sins for the Judgment Day

You’ve trampled upon God’s loving grace.

You rant and you roar to try to get more

You rob the widow and steal from the poor

Your altar is spread with their plundered bread

Your favorite curses will fall on your head.

A millstone is tied around your neck

Those vows you’ve devoured are on your paycheck

Those souls you’ve hurt with the following words

Tithe or you’ll die cut off from our church.

Christ will spew you out of His mouth

You won’t go up when He gives the shout

You wouldn’t find heaven so sweet and fair

You’d think it was hell, no money’s up there.