You tell me that my hair’s too long
And I need to change my ways
You say that I don’t look the part
Of a saint of latter days.
You point out that I haven’t shaved
And shake your head in shame
You seem to think that in this Church
We must all look and act the same.
Have I dishonored faith and God
Because my shirt’s not white?
Do tattoos and scars of days gone by
Dim my testimony’s light?
Does the smoke that stains my simple clothes
Offend your sinless heart?
Will you suggest my faith is weak
If I don’t play the saintly part?
Will you turn away a humble heart
Because his shoes aren’t shined and neat?
Or will you ask the Master to stay outside
Because of His sandaled feet?