Poetry

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The Lord said, “Sit at my right hand,
And I make your foes your footstool;”
Because the Lord, He shall command,
Those to be an ungodly fool.

The Lord send forth unto Zion,
Your mighty scepter to rule them;
Being like a roaring lion,
Ensuring that He will condemn.

Your people will offer freely,
Upon that day of Your power;
Be from the womb that is really,
Unknown of the exact hour.

Coming from the womb that morning,
The dew of Your youth will be Yours;
As parents will be adorning,
While learning carpentry chores.

The Lord swore not to change His mind,
You will be a priest forever;
With the Father to be aligned,
Showing a love not to sever.

The Lord will be at Your right hand,
And strike kings on the day of wrath;
Army of angels to command,
Clears way of Your heavenly path.

You shall judge amongst the nations,
As the dead bodies filling them;
Smelling of the chard cremations,
The lake of fire will condemn.

You shall drink from the brook nearby,
And You shall be lifting Your head;
Letting out such a mournful cry,
So much sin these people were fed.

Copyright © 2024 Richard Newton Sherrer

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