Poetry

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Holy, Holy, Holy,
Is the Lord our God;
The one true and only,
That we honor and laud.

For the entire earth,
Is filled with His glory;
And He has given birth,
To our history.

I can never be doomed,
Every word passes;
My sin has not resumed,
Lusting not for lasses.

My lips were once sinful,
Nothing said that was wise;
It was pleasurable,
As I looked with my eyes.

Then angels flew to me,
And put a burning coal;
On my lips to decree,
That all sin leave my soul.

He took away my guilt,
And my sin forgiven;
A stairway will be built,
As to enter Heaven.

Then I heard the Lord ask,
"Whom can I ever send?
Who will handle the task?
Persevere till the end."

I said, "Here I am Lord,
Why do you not send me?
Let not me be ignored,
Your servant I will be."

So I went to tell all,
The people that I met;
They have a downfall,
With payment of a debt.

They are all close-minded,
Plug their ears, shut their eyes;
For they have been blinded,
By Satan in disguise.

Copyright © 2015 Richard Newton Sherrer

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