Poetry

Thought

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I think we only think we think
When our imagination
Is captivated at the brink
Of some infatuation.
The meeting of the mind with wonder
Tricks us to assume
That old ideas are torn asunder,
New ideas to bloom.
But truly we have only just
Begun to chip away the rust
And wipe away the years of dust
For mental exploration.
And pushing past the stench of must,
Advancing with a forward thrust
Into the realms of doubt and trust,
We reach the elevation.
And it is there we find
A freedom for the mind
As God in grace unbinds
Our thoughts from Satan’s blinds.
Press on! Press on! And think to know
The Truth amidst the lies below!

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Prayer of Pursuit

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O Father, let me never be
A hindrance to your plan for me,
But grant me, Lord, the eyes to see
The roads you’d have me travel.
And strengthen me to follow thee
By sun or star, by land or sea
Until the day I fin’lly flee
This world of grit and gravel.

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Desensitized

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Why do we find such follies fun
And magnify the madness?
The filth from which we ought to run
Fills us with giddy gladness.
So should we not expect to find
That love for God is lacking?
And in the church we are not kind
But are ourselves attacking?
Oh can we not reject the dross
And seek sanctification?
Do not, for “fun,” reject the cross
Nor bask in your damnation.
For Christ has saved our souls from sin
That we might sin no longer.
Embrace his grace, his nail pierced skin,
And in his love grow stronger.

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An Invitation

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The syllables I share with you are such
As cannot be conceived by mortal men.
These words of wisdom hold a holy touch;
When heeded, hell-bound souls are saved from sin
So that they are no longer bound for hell
But are, before the judge’s throne, redeemed.
Those who are parched are pardoned at the well
By one who was not very much esteemed.
This revelation of the only way
Requires that we would a decision make.
The son that rose to shine the light of day
Has dawned that darkened souls might now awake.
Do not now spurn this love he came to give;
Choose you this day to turn to Christ and live.

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Matthew 6:13

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Oh let me never set my foot
Into this hellish place again,
This cesspool of the vilest strain,
This fountain of the blackest soot,
For I would sooner face my death
Than dare depart into the deep
Where devils in the darkness sleep
In wait for any sound of breath.
Alas, this place is never far,
For scorching fire doth walk with me,
Subverting any good I see,
Revealing this, my hidden scar,
The fatal wound within my heart
That came when I chose to rebel
And, left unhealed, will lead to hell
This soul who seeks to just depart
To freedom from the curse of sin.
O Jesus, can you save this wretch?
Can you before damnation catch
My soul and make my life begin?
Forgive me for my wicked ways
And rescue from temptation’s snares;
Keep me from loving what impairs
And make me yours for all my days.

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Romans 12:1-2

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I bid you by God’s mercies to
Present yourselves as sacrifice,
A living offering unto
The One who paid your ransom price.
Be wholly pleasing to your Lord,
Be holy in your heart and soul,
For Christ is now your great reward,
And God in Christ will make you whole.
Do not adopt this earthy mold,
But be renewed in mind and will.
You now belong to heaven’s fold;
Embrace the Shepherd and be still.
Put to the test so to discern
What is the perfect will of God,
And learn to love, and love to learn,
As you with your Creator trod.

Sweet, Holy Providence

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Thank you for road blocks,
For cold stops,
For forced glances at clocks,
For sin is crouching at the door;
Sin – such as I adore;
Sin – donning such masks as
Joy and peace and
Satisfaction. Finally, though, they fall off.
Every mask falls off.
And what is left exposed? Only this:
The bitter taste of counterfeit bliss,
The savory stench of a stolen kiss
Placed upon the lips of death.
That road is always a dead end,
And there is always, in the ignorant mind,
Time to turn back.
So thank you for forced glances
At the minute hand as it dances,
For cold stops on cold nights,
For road blocks that open up the way
To the true Road.

The Tragedy of Apostasy

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A dozen knights in finest armor rode
To kill the dev’lish creature of the deep.
From citadels celestial, by the Code,
They journeyed for the safety of the keep.
The party claimed allegiance to their king,
And gladly did they march for him to war,
Until they found the lands of which none sing,
For there they met the monster of the moor.
The beast fought not with sword nor spear, but voice.
It promised untold riches for a knee.
And, one by one, the soldiers made the choice,
And they were felled without the faintest plea.
None were dissuaded by the death of friends;
Such is the tragic end of selfish ends.