Poetry

An Invitation

/ joethewaller / Leave a comment

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.

My Misunderstanding

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Note: This poem is satirical in nature. Psalm 46:10 challenged me lately. I realized that I live all too often as if ministry depends upon my efforts rather than recognizing that God brings the growth. I also realized that I can all too easily sacrifice time with the Lord when school and ministry get demanding. That’s not the right option at all. I need to spend time with God first, and live and work in his strength. This poem, then, is an exaggeration; I don’t actually pray this. But I often live as if I don’t need God for the work he’s called me to do. This poem, in a way, is a confession that I need to learn to “be still” and know that he is God.

“Be still,” you say, “and know that I am God.”
But know ye not, my Lord, that I must move?
I dare not halt or tarry as I trod,
That daily I might my devotion prove.
I have no time to sit and talk with thee
For there are souls who do not know your love.
You simply need to grant my ev’ry plea,
That I might win more souls for heav’n above.
I, Lord, like Martha, see the work to do,
And I, to honor you, would give my all.
I would be known by men as ever true.
I need no other quest, no further call.
You justified me, Lord, by thy good will.
I need naught else, so you can now be still.

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Untitled, 4-8-16

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We bar and barricade the doors
In our attempts to gain control
Over the monster of the moors
Whose presence takes a deathly toll.
Among our fellow men we place
A visage of maturity,
And wear a smile upon the face
That none might our true nature see.
And all the while we waste away
As day by day the monster kills.
We fall defeated in the fray,
Forsaken by our fallen wills.
We will forever lose the fight,
For our desires are much too strong.
Unless we fall before the Light,
We soon will sing our final song.
The only answer to the curse
Is in the God-man crucified.
In death was opened heaven’s purse.
His payment poured from pierced side
That we poor sinners could be cleared
From wages that were well deserved.
He saved us from the fate we feared,
And humbly our Creator served.
So do not tarry in this time
And risk eternity in strife,
But heed the reason for this rhyme
And turn to Christ the Lord for life!

Hope, My Soul, In God

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Hope, my soul, in God.
Lift your head and have no fear.
Know, O heart, that he is here.
To this promise, tune your ear.
See his staff and rod.

Hope in his good reign.
Sov’reign over ev’ry sin,
His, the earth and all therein.
Ev’ry battle, he will win.
Trust him through the rain.

“Hope: the best of things.”
Devil, demons, try your might;
You’ve already lost the fight.
Darkness cannot kill the Light.
Peace and joy, he brings.