Poetry

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How my foes increase,
Many who attack;
As they will not cease,
For goodness they lack.

Many said about,
That there is no hope;
In God they have doubt,
No need for to cope.

But God is my shield,
Who lifts up my head;
Gives abundant yield,
That I am well fed.

I cry to the Lord,
And He answers me;
I am not ignored,
Assist in my plea.

I lie down and sleep,
But awake again;
As one of His sheep,
And He will sustain.

I am not afraid,
Those who take a stand;
For He renders aid,
Combat their demand.

So, rise up O Lord,
And save me my God;
I cannot afford,
For becoming flawed.

Strike down all my foes,
Slap them on the cheek;
So, they see their woes,
On the things they seek.

Smite to break the jaw,
Of the sinfulness;
That they cannot call,
Those with doubtfulness.

Salvation belongs,
Unto our Lord;
Erasing the wrongs,
When in one accord.

His blessings be on,
Of all His people;
To see a new dawn,
Inside His temple.

Copyright © 2018 Richard Newton Sherrer

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