Poetry

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I wish now my words were written,
Having them inscribed in a book;
So no more could Satan smitten,
On those who have taken a look.

I wish that they had been engraved,
With iron pen in solid rock;
So those that read not be enslaved,
And able with Jesus they walk.

But I know my defender lives,
And He will rise upon the earth;
As all who confess He forgives,
To experience second birth.

Even after my skin has rot,
And my bones are turned back to dust;
A new body that has been bought,
For me to wear that will not lust.

I will see Him with my own eyes,
Far away from any danger;
His true self having no disguise,
Beholding not as a stranger.

My heart may fail inside me,
As the root of the problem found;
But the Day of Judgment will see,
As I have become Heaven bound.


Copyright © 2010 Richard Newton Sherrer

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