Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Holy the heart on which we hang our hope.
To trust in Christ is to trust him in the torture.
Shall we believe in pastor, priest, or pope?

The love of God is learning how to cope.
I don’t believe in the God you don’t believe in either.
Holy the heart on which we hang our hope.

Love is a ditch in which the shallow drown.
To trust in Christ is to trust him in the torture,
Sweet is the carriage in which we come to town.

The mind like a drunkard staggers on alone.
I don’t believe in the God you don’t believe in either.
The sink of Sheol opens in the bone.

Love is a ditch in which the shallow drown.
The love of God is learning how to cope.
Sweet is the carriage in which we come to town.
Holy the heart on which we hang our hope.