Poetry

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One day I know not when,
the blind man will see again,
The deaf who cannot hear,
will wake to loud angelic cheer.
The twisted limbs drawn from age,
will dance before a holy babe,
The harlots life which sin decayed,
will be restored by Him that day.
The leper longing to be clean,
will no longer have to dream.
And all who fear deaths resting place,
rejoice for now they can be saved.

We find this gentle babe of old,
restores all that sin has stole.
With Angels all should join in praise,
the coming back of this babe.
The pain which sin dispensed so brave,
will find it’s self, locked in that grave.
The broken hearts, the souls dismay,
will be renewed by Christ that day.

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