Poetry

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I cry out unto the Lord,
Pleading for Him to come quick;
Letting not me be ignored,
Because I am feeling sick.

He needs to open His ears,
In order to hear my cry;
And taking away my fears,
Anxiety makes me sigh.

I hope that my prayer request,
He is able to accept;
Knowing I have done my best,
For following His precept.

On my mouth I set a guard,
To keep watch over my tongue;
For what I say can be hard,
To control what might be flung.

I want to resist the devil,
Not letting him to persuade;
In doing something evil,
That I rather to evade.

A righteous person am I,
God corrects me with kindness;
And will never question why,
Because of having blindness.

When the judges are thrown off,
They listen to what I say;
Because they have heard me cough,
While I kneel as to pray.

It sounds pleasant unto me,
As someone plows up the ground;
Because the seed will soon be,
An ample harvest abound.

My eyes look unto the Lord,
I am comforted within Him;
If I stay in one accord,
I will not be feeling grim.

So I avert from the trap,
That wicked people lay out;
Requesting the Lord to zap,
For erasing any doubt.

Copyright © 2017 Richard Newton Sherrer

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