Rotted congregation

Song of the sorrowing harp
Echoes through chapel walls
They share their misery
As their skin is rotting
She walks through the forest
And hears their serenading call
On the eve of mortal's dread
The winter solstice had now, began
Silently, she stepped into the church
Unaware of all
The angry dead sang the next verse
Their mourning call
She then advanced to the front pew
With a guided hand
They harmonized with mockery to a jew inverted above
This rotted congregation sang their hymns
With vestiments that represent the all dim
Their rotting lips moved no more
Yet their words still rang out
Fingers now came out stretched
To join her with them, in hell