God of Wisdom; God of Beauty
God of Water, Wind, and Flame
We, your subjects, do our duty:
Even cripples praise your name.

God, who cured the lowly leper,
Plays with mercy like a game–
Eking praise from each twelve-stepper
Even cripples praise your name.

Mangled feet and withered fingers
Malformed faces hung in shame
Still this love of God still lingers
Even cripples praise your name.

Thanks to Salk and vaccination
Fewer children now are lame;
Still, I see to my frustration,
Even cripples praise your name.

God, who could have cured the sickest;
God, who chose instead to maim;
Here is where the bullshit’s thickest:
Even cripples praise your name.

God receives Earth’s bounty’s credit,
Satan, only Evil’s blame–
Hordes of faithful zombies spread it:
Even cripples praise your name.

God, it’s really hard to swallow
You’re as good as you proclaim;
Now, to me, it all rings hollow:
Only cripples praise your name.

Cuttlecap tip to HP (glad to edit in your name, if you prefer), for pointing me to a bit of fun on Making Light. The idea is to take one of Molly Wilson’s “Rejected Titles for Hymns“, and … write the hymn. I may have to have fun with a few more. You should, too!